Threads and Balance
by Jedi Holmes
Summary: On a mission to investigate the possibility of a Cyberman army on a small planet in Ghost Nebula, Jedi Masters Naomi and Mycroft, along with Jedi Knights Sherlock and Natasha, encounter old rivals set on tearing them down. Everything hangs in the balance as they navigate thinly woven threads, and with twists at every turn... the game is on.
1. Preparations

**A/N: **Welcome to the big one. This is our main story (thus far) of our Star Wars Multi-fandom AU series, featuring _BBC Sherlock, Supernatural, Marvel,_ and ideas from _Doctor Who._ You don't have to be well versed in them all, we'll try to keep you updated as we go along. Please read our profile bio if you have any questions about the oddity of this idea or the characters we've used.

Also, if you have not yet read the two prequels (Edge of a Feather and Tangled Threads), they can be found on our profile page as well, this one will make more sense if you do read them. This story is complete and will be published a couple chapters at a time until the end.

We had a lot of fun writing this, but if you'd like to leave a note or two saying how you liked it or anything else, please do! We'd love that. :)

And I think that's it. Please enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: Preparations<strong>

Jedi Master Mycroft Holmes stood outside the entrance of an appointed starship, calmly surveying his surroundings while he waited for his companions to arrive. Aside from the usual back and forth that was the norm for Coruscant's ship bay, it was relatively quiet. The chatter and noise reduced to a muted hum interrupted only by the quiet swish of robes behind him. A faint smile curved his lips, disappearing just as he turned to face the new arrival. "Naomi."

"Mycroft." Jedi Master Naomi Angelus' usual neutral mask of an expression broke into a soft smile as she approached. Her auburn hair was pulled back into it's usual bun, a dark cream cloak over her off-white Jedi robes. She had nothing but a small pack of supplies and her silver-hilted lightsaber, yet she was fully ready to go. Apparently a bit early, but as usual, Mycroft had beat her there. She maintained her well-practiced professional mask easily, considering they were still out in the open. "Good to see you. I assume our companions should be here shortly."

"Very shortly," Mycroft confirmed, turning to join her as they entered the ship. He'd only been waiting for her, after all. "But we do still have a bit of time to talk before they arrive," he glanced at her, "and it is good to see you as well."

She waited until they were aboard the ship, confident they were completely alone, and then moved in for an embrace. She held him close for a second and then shifted so she could kiss him. Hands moved over his shoulders as she familiarized herself again with how he felt and tasted. Having been on separate missions over the last few months, there hadn't been much overlap, nor time to do their usual conversation and meditation together, as well _this._ She'd missed it.

Mycroft's own supplies dropped to the floor and he pulled her in close to return the eager kiss she'd pressed to his lips. He's missed her, and it was only a good long while later, after he'd recommitted every detail about her to memory, that he finally found the strength to pull back. He drew in a deep breath. "Hello."

"Hello, love." She smiled at him and then stepped away fully, regretfully, but they'd have company soon. "I assume everything went well on Vitros?" She took the turn and headed for the cockpit to make preparations.

"Very well," Mycroft replied after clearing his throat and straightening his gray robes. "Naturally, peace talks were strained, considering the current state of things. There are influences at work from all sides, as you know." He stopped and waited for her to put her things away, momentarily fixing his eyes on her face. "Still, I'm confident we ensured their alliance to our cause." He paused. "And yourself? Mission to Delaya went well?"

"Yes, it did. I found Metatron rather quickly." Naomi said with a nod, stowing the small pack of supplies where she needed them and then moving to the pilot seat. She put her hand on the back of it, turning to face him again, the smallest amount of regret on her face. "You know how these interrogations go. But it was a success in the end. He won't be causing them pain any longer."

Mycroft's expression softened as it did only with her and he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. "That is excellent news," he said, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze. "I am sorry for the circumstances surrounding it, as usual. Sometimes it is the only way."

"Yes I know." Naomi said with a nod of agreement. "And when it is my life or his, I'm going to choose mine. As selfish as that is, my work is not done. Regretful still." She paused for a thoughtful second, as if debating whether to continue. "It was...very close, as they say."

"No, your work is not done and wanting to continue it is not selfish in the slightest," Mycroft insisted, looking her over for a moment before he continued. "Were you alone?"

"Naturally." Naomi said impassively, slipping past him to check the controls behind them. "You were away, and I should have been able to handle it alone. I did handle it alone. It's hardly the first close call we've had."

Mycroft turned with her, following her movements with his eyes as she spoke. "Naturally," he said finally. He bowed his head for a moment. "Forgive me, I did not mean to imply that you couldn't handle it on your own. I have great respect for your skills, as you well know."

"I do know." Naomi said, softening slightly as she leaned over the dash. She pressed the touch screen to activate it and then straightened, pulling off her cloak as she turned back to face him. "I only just returned, and I got a bit of a...lecture about my methods from the Council, I suppose I'm a bit on edge still. Twenty-seven hours trapped in here with you should do the trick. It's just unfortunate we have company."

A low chuckle escaped Mycroft's lips. "I'm not sure my brother would agree, but I will endeavor to make the journey as pleasant as possible for you in spite of it." He removed his own cloak and settled into his seat as co-pilot. "The Council may protest your methods," he continued, "but they do not argue with your results. Such is the nature of politics." He went over the controls before turning his eyes her way. "I'm not surprised it puts you on edge."

"Politics is not my area of expertise. That's why I keep you around." Naomi said, flashing him a smile as she leaned against her chair. "Speaking of your brother, they are nearly late and... oh they're on their way up the ramp right now. About time." Sensitive hearing picked up the sounds of Padawan John Watson and Jedi Knight Sherlock Holmes on their way in. "Once in hyperspace, I think I'm going to need some quiet meditation. One can only imagine the noise level..."

"We're here." Sherlock was first, followed closely by John, walking into the front cockpit area with his usual impassive expression. He wore his usual black and dark grey attire, his black curls laying messily over his pale forehead. As he was preparing to speak again, his brother beat him to it.

"You're very nearly late." Mycroft announced with his usual disapproving air after swiveling around to face him. "And where is..."

"Here." Jedi Knight Natasha Romanoff was a blur of red hair and black robes as she turned to pull Padawan Molly Hooper through the door behind her.

"It was me." Molly admitted with a bit of a blush. "We're late because of me, but there was this book about this plague on Tatooine and—"

"Molly." Natasha said sternly, earning herself a small nod from her padawan.

"It was't _just _Molly, we're sorry, Master Mycroft." John squeezed his way from behind Sherlock, an apologetic look on his face. The short blond sixteen year old gave Mycroft and Naomi a polite bow.

"It's alright, just get settled, we've been cleared for take off." Naomi said, moving to sit in her seat and turn towards the controls, finishing preparations.

Sherlock put his hand on John's shoulder to gently push him towards the sleeping quarters. "Supplies go back there, hurry up." John's brow pinched but he did as told, moving to put their packs in the back. Sherlock straightened, narrowing clear blue eyes at his brother. "Mycroft."

"Sherlock." Mycroft greeted, giving his brother the usual quick once over. "I trust everything is well with you and your padawan?"

"Fine." Sherlock said, his tone clipped. "Got pulled out of my undercover operation for this. I assume you have a reasons for wanting me specifically. Aside from your constant need to torment me with your presence."

"Rogers was taking over your operation anyways, Sherlock." Naomi countered lightly, keeping her focus on the controls as she made preparations to take off. "You were going to be available whether you wanted to or not. Our intel suggests your skills will be needed, you as well, Natasha. This is of the utmost importance."

Natasha whispered a few words to Molly, prompting the girl to trot off to their sleeping quarters with their own supplies in tow. Her robes swished quietly when she turned towards the rest of her companions, revealing red accents in the otherwise black fabric. Green eyes flitted briefly over Sherlock before settling on Mycroft and Naomi.

"I assumed." She replied. "It's not every day I get pulled away from such a delicate operation on short notice. Is there any chance we will be told what it is any time soon?"

Mycroft, who'd fixed his eyes on his brother for the duration of their exchange, finally looked away to focus on the controls. "As Naomi said, both your skill sets are required for this mission. You'll be briefed on the particulars in due time." He paused. "It is a twenty-seven hour journey, so I suggest you make yourselves comfortable." He turned his head slightly to the side. "That is if you can manage it with my presence here to torment you."

Natasha reached out and lightly touched a hand to Sherlock's arm at Mycroft's provocation. "A challenge, but I'm sure we can manage."

Sherlock simply rolled his eyes, thinking better of a retort. Twenty-seven hours wasn't exactly a long travel time by their standards, but it wasn't the biggest of spaceships. "Come on Nat, one can only imagine what our padawans are rambling to each other about. It's going to be a long day." A short huff and he turned, black cloak flaring out behind him as he turned and headed for the back. John and Molly were good friends, that could talk more in an half hour than their masters would say in a whole day. But at least Natasha was in the same boat, sharing stories about their padawans was always entertaining, despite their three year hiatus as mission partners.

"Perhaps I'm not the only one on edge?" Naomi suggested lightly, after the two other Jedi left the cockpit. She put her hands on the steering column, lifting the modest cruiser off from the docking station. She pointed the nose for the sky.

Mycroft let out a slow breath, concentrating on the task at hand rather than the snarky brother now making his way towards the sleeping quarters. "Are you talking about me or my brother?" He asked Naomi. "Either way, I'm sure you're right."

"Both. And yes, I usually am right." Naomi said with a smile, leaning in to give one more comm transmission before they broke through Coruscant's atmosphere. She straightened up, leaning back in her seat as she flew them out into the darkness of space. "You did request him, and Natasha."

"I trust them as I trust you. Both their judgement and their skills." Mycroft explained with only minor reluctance. "Such trust doesn't come easily for me, as you know, and for what lies ahead..." He trailed off thoughtfully before continuing in a lighter tone. "Your company is infinitely more agreeable, however."

Naomi gave a light laugh, melodious and soft, relaxing into the pilot seat as the city planet got smaller and smaller behind them. "As is yours. Like said, twenty seven hours of meditation and conversation, and I should be ready for what is to come as well." She paused, glancing over at him. "I'm sure if our intel is correct and everyone does as they are instructed, this should proceed without a problem."

"As am I." Mycroft agreed with a small smile brought on by her laughter. It was a rare thing, and he'd missed it. "The truth is, whether or not our intel is correct does not trouble me. Whether or not it is complete, does." His smile dimmed. "We'll know when we get there and see the situation ourselves."

Naomi was quiet as the computer finished the calculations and she made the jump into hyperspace, stars streaming by the front window. "And I'm sure we'll handle it with our usual fortitude, skills, and patience. We have quite the team assembled," she paused, dropping her hands to her lap, "although I'm still not sure the padawans should have come along."

"We'll take precautions to ensure their safety." Mycroft assured. "Their trials are not that far in the future, and soon after they'll be sent out on dangerous missions of their own. They need to learn." He paused. "No harm will come to them on this mission, Naomi. We'll make certain of it."

"Yes, we will." Naomi said, glancing over at him. Her hands went up to pull her hair out of it's usual bun, her fingers just briefly playing with the twin gray feathers she wore in her hair, her homeworld tradition. "When were we going to brief them?"

Mycroft eyed her once she'd loosened her hair, quickly clearing his throat and averting his eyes. "As soon as possible." He answered. "I'd like to hear any input they might have sooner, rather than later."

"That will do." Naomi said, letting out a short sigh and keeping her eyes on the window in front of them. "You haven't told Sherlock or Natasha whom they suspect it is."

"No." Mycroft confirmed quietly, following Naomi's eyes to the window. "I thought it best not to tell them until we could give them the whole picture, as they way." He paused. "You think I should have?"

"No, I trust your judgement." Naomi said immediately. "Knowing beforehand may have distracted them. Emotions...are distracting. They will accept and move on."

"I'm sure they will." Mycroft said, newly confident. "But... I do trust your judgement as well, Naomi. I trust you'll let me know when something I do or say is... ill-advised?"

"Politics are not my area, there is very little I can help you with in that area. You know what I prefer to do." Naomi said with a small smile. "Your brother, on the other hand, I will always attempt to help you with. Just like in the past."

"I meant only with my brother." Mycroft assured her. "I can handle politics just fine, it's family I have trouble with." He mirrored her smile and straightened in his chair. "Now, shall we debrief them?"

"Let's do that now." Naomi agreed, pressing one more button on the dash and then standing from her seat. "Before everyone gets too comfortable."

"If I know our companions, they won't be comfortable until they're fully informed of the situation." Mycroft unfolded himself from his chair, taking the lead as they crossed the short distance to the sleeping quarters towards the back, gray robes swishing quietly around his legs.


	2. Briefing

**Chapter 2: Briefing**

Molly was giggling by the time both Sherlock and Natasha came in through the door, and she quickly swatted John's arm to alert him of their presence. "We're behaving." She said quickly. "Promise."

Natasha lifted a brow, but otherwise flashed the girl a small, fond smile.

"Behaving, yep." John's grin was nearly infectious even as he put the small card game he held into his brown cloak pocket. However, Sherlock was practiced in not bending to his sixteen year old padawan's antics, and observing the little things he always tried to get away with.

"Yes, I saw that." Sherlock said, but didn't press the issue. A game was hardly the end of the galaxy. "Can you keep quiet while Natasha and I catch up? One can hardly concentrate on anything with your rambling."

"I don't ramble." John protested, running a hand through his blond hair. "But we'll try to keep it down."

Molly blushed a tiny bit, glancing from Natasha to Sherlock to John. "I know. I ramble." She acknowledged. "But we'll be fine for a while, John's right."

Natasha's lips twitched into a quick half smile as she watched the young pair. "And Molly?"

"I know." Molly sighed. "No morbid jokes while those two are within earshot." She gestured with her hand in Mycroft and Naomi's general direction. "I remember."

"Good." Natasha turned towards Sherlock, looking him over with a little more care this time. "So where were you?" She began as they moved to their own corner to catch up.

"Belgravia." Sherlock said, settling cross-legged on the floor in the corner, back straight. "Rich, influential monarchy. The Queen was about to be completely blackmailed into some deal with the Trade Federation. Bit of undercover work to get us inside, you know how that goes. But apparently Rogers was going to finish it up for me, because The Queen took an...interest in me specifically" He waved a dismissive hand. "I didn't want to stay, John and I were both done with it."

"Good." Natasha said tightly, lips pursing momentarily when the reply came quicker than it should've. Her eyes flitted to his face, and she settled down cross-legged in front of him. "I'm sure Rogers can handle The Queen on his own, and apparently we're both needed here what with this being of the 'utmost importance'." She paused, holding his gaze for a moment before looking away. "It's been a while since we've worked together."

"Which is not my doing." Sherlock retorted quickly. Yes, he really missed working with her, as one of the few friends he actually had. Despite his protests, which were for Mycroft's benefit only, he was glad to be there. "Where were you anyways? Must have been 'delicate' as you put it. I didn't even hear where. Or with who." He added the last part dryly.

"I was in Jotun." Natasha explained, fully aware their separation was entirely her doing. She had good reasons, of course, but not ones she'd ever spoken out loud. Especially not to him. "Illegal weapons trade. The nature of the weapon itself was unknown. I was sent in to evaluate, Barton volunteered to come as back up. We were given strict orders, no one could know we were there." She looked up to meet his eyes. "They sent Stark in to replace me, I was only half done."

"Barton's an idiot." Sherlock said tightly, resting his hands on his knees. "I'm surprised he didn't get you killed, on Jotun especially." That should have been their mission. Years of working together, they were like a well oiled machine, but apparently things changed. Not that he was holding a grudge against her new usual mission partner. Nope. "Stark's an idiot too. One can only imagine how they hope to accomplish anything together."

Natasha concealed an amused smile with a turn of her head at his choice of words. "I thought about calling you for this one, actually. I was told you were unavailable." Truthfully, she thought about calling him for nearly every mission. It simply wasn't the same with anyone else, not even Barton, despite his attempts to prove himself a worthy partner. "I don't trust anyone else to have my back the way you do..." She turned her head to look at him once again and tried a new smile. "So how are things with John?"

"John's progressing as expected." Sherlock said with a nod, accepting the change of subject. "Studying hard with the Temple Healers, performing satisfactorily at everything else. His attention to detail is somewhat lacking, but that's nothing new. I'm nearly always surprised by his...heart, I suppose that's the right word for it." Brief thoughtful pause. "And Molly?"

"Studying hard with the Temple Healers, same as John." Natasha replied. "Xenopathology is her strength, practically swallows whole any book she can find on the subject." She turned briefly to look over her padawan and smiled faintly. "Doing well everywhere else, more or less. I keep trying with combat, but she's still struggling." Pause. "She's... perceptive. It's a little unnerving sometimes, and I'm not easily unnerved."

"Perceptive?" Sherlock questioned. "She doesn't advertise that, curious. A shame really about her combat skills, considering who her master is." He very nearly smiled. "But they've each been a good match for us, surprisingly."

"Well... she's not perceptive like you are." Natasha replied with a wider smile, the kind she only reserved for Sherlock and Molly. "I mean perceptive about... human emotion, I suppose." She looked him over thoughtfully. "You're right, though. They have been a surprisingly good match for us. Especially when I wasn't even sure I should take a padawan in the first place, considering." She shifted, settling in beside Sherlock so that they were both facing their padawans a short distance away. "I hope I'm doing things right with her."

"You are doing right with her." Sherlock said confidently, his eyes straying to John and Molly deep in conversation. "You're much better at this than you give yourself credit for." Consider her own former Master...they'd discussed it, there was no reason to speak of it again. Old wounds. "Although exposure to Barton might be hazardous to her training. You might need to rethink that."

"You really have a problem with Barton, don't you?" Natasha commented, more than asked. "Thank you, though. For being so sure I can do this. It means something, coming from you."

"I know." Sherlock said simply, stretching his legs out in front of him, black booted feet crossing over themselves. "And I don't say anything I don't mean."

"What about you?" Natasha stretched her legs out in front of her in much the same way Sherlock had, reaching up to loosen her hair from the long red braid she'd pulled it into. "No partners?"

* * *

><p>"Did you get a talking to from Master Mycroft or Naomi about your jokes?" John ended up pulling the deck of cards out again, dealing them out a game as he looked over his friend. "I think they're funny."<p>

Molly smiled, picking up her cards and tucking them into her hand. "Natasha thinks they're funny too, but Mycroft gave me a bit of a reprimand for them." She admitted. "A 'talking to', as they say. Now I'm only allowed to make them when no one else is around. Well," she giggled a little, "no one else besides you, Sherlock and Natasha."

John smirked, flipping his first card over to start the game. "Sherlock likes them too, he just doesn't show it." He paused, briefly flicking the cards in his hand. "You know, as intimidating as people think Master Mycroft is, I don't. Maybe it's because of Sherlock."

Molly flipped a card over in turn. "Maybe." She agreed. "Natasha says there's no need to be intimidated so long as I treat him and Naomi with respect, but I really can't help it sometimes." She flashed him a sheepish smile. "Though I was terrified of Sherlock when I first met him too, but not anymore. Maybe I just need a little time."

"Sherlock confused me, but never intimidated me." John said quietly. "Sometimes he's more...immature than I am sometimes." He sorta grinned again. "I'm sure you'll be fine in time, at least with Mycroft. I'm not sure I've seen Master Naomi truly smile at anyone, besides him. She's a bit...frightening sometimes. Remember when she came to the sparring session when we were younglings?"

"How could I forget?" Molly laughed. "I practically stuttered my way through every word until she was gone." She lowered her voice when she caught herself speaking a little louder than she'd intended. "She is a bit frightening, but I like Naomi. Better than I like Mycroft, actually, but don't tell anyone."

John laughed lightly, trying to keep it down for their masters in the corner. "Your secret's safe with me. Still, this one should be interesting. We haven't been on a mission with you two in a while, at least it's felt that way"

"I know, right?" Molly tilted her head thoughtfully. "I like it better when it's the four of us, you know. Natasha likes it better too. I don't know why she says we shouldn't, and I asked her once." She grimaced. "It didn't go over very well." She paused. "Still, at least we're on a mission now, right? Where were you before this one?"

"Belgravia." John said, flipping over a card and stealing the pair. "We were undercover at first, and The Queen...she very nearly took Sherlock to be her mate." He stifled a chuckle. "He wasn't thrilled, even if he did save her life. It was...very educational. What about you?"

Molly snorted. "It sounds educational." She took her turn. "We were in Jotun with Barton." She began. "Something about a weapon in the shape of a cube. Natasha explained and I took notes, but it's really not my area." She chuckled. "Still, it was fun. I did learn a bit about Jotun culture in general... and a bit about cursing in Natasha's native language."

"Oh, you'll have to teach me some of that. Sherlock doesn't like me cursing, but maybe he'll find it amusing if it's Natasha's language." John said. "We haven't been on a mission with anyone else in a long while. It's just been the two of us. You know Sherlock doesn't work well with others."

"I'll teach you." Molly said with a quiet giggle. "It's only a few words, Natasha doesn't really curse much. It's just Barton that brings it out in her, I think." She explained. "I do know about Sherlock, though..." She trailed off thoughtfully. "You think maybe we'll be able to do things like we used to after this? Just the four of us?"

"I hope so." John said with a nod. "I miss you guys, and I think Sherlock gets lonely sometimes with just the two of us. Not that he'll ever admit it." He paused. "There's something I can't quite figure out about him. Well, more than one thing. He gets all...broody and moody and stuff sometimes. Less so when he's got Natasha to bounce ideas off of."

"He does?" Molly's eyes strayed to their Masters in the corner, but quickly focused them back on John. There was something there, that much she knew. Not just with Sherlock, but with Natasha as well. She bit her lip for a second. "Maybe we can sort of... convince them. You know, remind them..." She trailed off when she caught sight of Mycroft and Naomi at the door.

* * *

><p>"No one else will work with me..." Sherlock trailed off, letting out a sigh as the two Masters came into the room. He picked himself up off the ground, extending a hand to help Natasha stand as well. Not that she needed the help, it's just what they did. His arms crossed once they were both standing and he fixed his eyes on Mycroft, flitting once or twice to Naomi. "Care to enlighten us now?"<p>

John quickly swept up the cards to put them back in his pocket, standing with a bit more haste that he might have otherwise. He didn't speak, this would be something Sherlock would handle.

"We are well underway, and should be there within the time specified, just under twenty-seven hours. Debriefing will happen now, as I'm sure you are curious to the nature of this mission, and it will give you time to prepare for it." Naomi said, looking over the group in her usual impassive manner. "Our destination is Atoa, in the Ghost Nebula. We have received intelligence on a growing operation there, our goal is to stop it before it starts. Mycroft will explain."

Mycroft thanked Naomi with a brief nod before turning his gaze towards Sherlock and Natasha. "If our intel is correct, it appears two rogue Jedi have allied themselves hoping to take over Atoa with an army of Cybermen. You'll know these men as James Moriarty and Ivan Petrovich, I need not explain who they are or what they are capable of."

He paused and clasped his hands behind his back, allowing that bit of information to sink in before he continued. "Our purpose there is threefold. First, we need to assess exactly how dangerous and widespread this operation has become. Second, we need to gather as much information as possible about said operation, including the Cybermen themselves. And third, we need to apprehend both men and all possible allies." He stretched to his full height. "Any questions?"

Natasha ignored whatever reaction Ivan's name had prompted within her, compartmentalizing it to deal with later when she was alone. Or as alone as anyone could be with five other people aboard the same cruiser. "What do we know about the Cybermen?"

"Nothing yet, that is where you come in." Mycroft answered professionally.

"They are not droids, other than that, we don't know anything about them, the armor they have, nor the weapons they posses." Naomi clarified. "We need that information. We'll start undercover to assess the situation and then determine the best course of action for dismantling whatever hold these men have over this planet."

"So you're sending us four in to investigate, while you go off to determine the location of Moriarty and Petrovich." Sherlock deduced. He was rather hoping never to hear either of those names again, but the emotion was set aside for the time being. Jedi moved on. It was the best way.

"Actually, I was hoping to keep one of your padawans with us. It's negotiable, naturally, but teams of three would be more simpler." Naomi said.

"One of our padawans?" Natasha's eyes strayed to Molly, who returned her gaze with a small smile.

Mycroft nodded shortly. "I agree with Naomi, two teams would be simpler. Three and three seems like a fair distribution."

"Perhaps Molly with us, and John with you." Naomi suggested. "Either way it would be a learning experience."

John looked at Molly too, just a brief glance before turning his attention back to the Masters.

"It's fine with me. At least in the initial investigation. We'll need to regroup after we've learned what we can." Sherlock said, uncrossing arms to put his hands on his waist.

"This is of utmost importance, considering who we're up against and the possibilities of the army they are creating. It has the possibility of being much bigger than what we've heard. That is the reason we brought both of your teams instead of just one." Naomi said.

Natasha tore her eyes away from Molly and clasped her hands in front of her. "Alright, Molly can go with you." She replied. "We'll reevaluate once we know more."

"Good, then it's settled." Mycroft said primly. "Do make sure you rest during the remainder of our journey. We don't know under what conditions we'll be working once we arrive, and we all need to be on high alert."

"This is not the first time we've gone undercover, Mycroft, as I'm sure you know." Natasha replied, causing her padawan to shoot a nervous glance Mycroft's way. "We'll be ready."

Sherlock smirked at bit at Natasha's retort to Mycroft. "We will be ready." He echoed. "All of us. Now I'm assuming we're dismissed? Not like there's anywhere to go..."

"Please try to be civil, Sherlock." Naomi reprimanded slightly, taking a step back. "I'll be up front meditating, if needed." A polite nod of her head and she made the turn to head back to the cockpit. She slipped her hand into Mycroft's as soon as they were out of visual range.

John pursed his lips slightly as they left. "Sherlock...who's Moriarty and Petrovich?"

"Two very dangerous former Jedi, both taking a turn for the Dark Side." Sherlock explained in a clipped voice. "That's all you need to know for now."

Natasha contemplated the empty spot they'd left behind for a moment before finally settling her eyes on Molly. The concerned look on her padawan's face almost made her smile. Almost. "You'll be fine, Molly." She told her. "Remember what we talked about?"

"I remember." Molly nodded, hesitating a moment before sitting back down. "I just... worry."

"Too much, I would say." Natasha replied, sinking back cross-legged to her previous spot and closing her eyes. She pulled her now loose hair over her shoulder and ran her fingers through it, breathing slowly as she attempted to find her balance once again.

"Worrying is illogical." Sherlock said, staying standing for the moment and fixing clear blue eyes on Molly for the moment. "And if you two are going to chat, please do it quietly and in the end storage compartment. I would advise sleeping here soon though, as well as quiet meditation."

John nodded at his master, putting his hand out to pull Molly up so they could move somewhere else. After a long couple seconds they were gone.

Sherlock looked down at Natasha. "Are you alright?"

Natasha opened her eyes, silently looking up at him before finally nodding once. "We move on, don't we?" A faint smile curved her lips but faded quickly. "It was... unexpected," she said cautiously, "but I'm alright."

Sherlock moved to crouch in front of her, scanning her face for signs and clues. But as usual, she was difficult to read. "A bit unexpected yes, but I suppose it's not exactly...a surprise that Moriarty would show up like this. Nor Petrovich. If anything...I think we can take them."

Natasha lowered her hands to her lap and straightened. "Mycroft, Naomi, you and me? I think we can." She agreed, lapsing into thoughtful silence before her lips twitched into bit of a smirk. "This is almost like old times. Minus the unwelcome appearance of Moriarty and Petrovich... but if we forget the names and the history, they're just two rogue Jedi we need to bring in."

"They are." Sherlock agreed, patting her knee with his large hand before plopping down to sit in front of her. "And we will bring them in, because no one else deserves to suffer nightmares because of them or their actions."

"Agreed." Natasha reached over to fix a fold in his robes, sharp green eyes fixing on intelligent blue, and a slow smile curving her lips. Maybe it was too much like old times, too much emotion in the way for her. Already she knew their separation had done nothing to weaken her feelings for him, but she couldn't dwell on that now. "Now, should we discuss battle plans? With the Cybermen, I'll need to get a hold of one if I'm going to make a proper assessment."

"Of course you will." Sherlock said with a little smirk, straightening up and crossing his legs. "Let's do it. Battle plans are always an enjoyable way to spend time with you."

* * *

><p>Mycroft followed Naomi out of the room and into the cockpit without another word to the rest of their companions. "That went well." He commented as he settled in to do a little meditating himself. "Better than I expected, as a matter of fact."<p>

"Natasha was noticeably affected, but I'm sure she'll tackle this as she usually does." Naomi said, perching herself in her chair and taking a deep calming breath. "A haunting past certainly, but she's overcome it in past years." And who doesn't have a haunting past, her thoughts drifted slightly until she reigned them back in.

"She has, and I'm confident she will again." Mycroft agreed, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath himself. "If anything, this will be good for her. Closure, as they say."

"Closure is important." Naomi said, speaking from experience, of course. "As well as the chance to eliminate a large threat to the peace of the galaxy, and that particular world."

"Naturally." Mycroft agreed, reopening his eyes to look at her. "That is our mission here, after all, and I am confident we'll be successful." He paused and smiled faintly. "You are no longer feeling 'on edge'?"

"No, I'm not." Naomi said with her own smile and blue eyed look. "You have a way of...calming me down, I suppose one could say." Pause. "I appreciate that, immensely."

"It goes both ways." Mycroft replied, looking her over before he closed his eyes once again. "And I appreciate it as well. More than you know."

"Hmm." Naomi inhaled deeply to connect herself to the Force, closing her eyes once more even a brief smile grew on her face. "I know quite a lot, but I appreciate the sentiment nevertheless." She paused, saying something that didn't really need to be said. "Now, I think we both could use some silence. _I love you." _

Mycroft's lips curved into a smile, and he replied in Enochian. "_I love you too._"


	3. One will

**Chapter 3: One will…**

The twenty-seven hour journey was long, they usually were, especially the journey there in the anticipation of the mission. Naomi never minded the length when they were coming home. In the privacy of the room she'd be sharing with Mycroft, she'd let him hold her. Curled up together as they rested for the impending mission.

As they got closer and closer, and they were settled back in the cockpit, she took control of the ship again, taking them out of hyperspace. Two padawans were eagerly looking out the window, and that nearly had her smiling. But things to do. She found the appropriate place and touched down on the currently snow covered field that served as the city's docking station. Urban, and relatively up to date with technology. The city was tucked at the bottom of a large mountain range, the snow covered peaks jutting up to the light blue sky. Stepping out of the ship, she pulled her cream colored cloak around her and closed her eyes to inhale the cool breeze. She had an odd feeling about this mission, and she couldn't place it. Still, things to do. They needed to find Petrovich and Moriarty's location, get the full spectrum of their involvements in the city. If they'd negotiated with or threatened the world leaders, if they were simply hiding here and no one had any knowledge of them. Too many questions and not enough answers.

Signaling Molly to follow closely, she stepped with Mycroft and left the other three, headed out to find those answers. As far as padawans go, she was nearly fond of Molly, despite the occasional interactions they'd had. Naomi taught the occasional lecture on the subject of Force influenced mind tricks. She was one of the top experts in the field, and had a knack for teaching. She didn't mind it so much, and honestly looked forward to it. Molly had been in her class earlier that year, and she was quite impressed with the girl's mind, and respect, and obedience.

Molly spared one last look over her shoulder for her Master, waving briefly before hurrying along to catch up with Naomi and Mycroft. Her relationship with each one was as different as the two of them were similar. She admired and respected them both, but where she was intimidated by Mycroft she was in awe of Naomi. More than once she'd rambled to her Master, Natasha, about Naomi's incredible connection to the Force. Molly wanted to be like both women in many ways, though her interests were centered mostly around her medical studies rather than battle or mind influence. Xenopathology, specifically. Still, it would be a good learning experience for her, she was sure of that, and it was enough to push her usual worry to the back of her mind.

Mycroft could very nearly feel the nervousness and excitement radiating off Natasha's padawan coming up behind them, much as he could with Anthea in the past. It very nearly made him smile, if it weren't for what lay ahead of them. A dangerous mission, to be sure, if only because they knew so little. He glanced over his shoulder at Molly before turning his eyes toward Naomi. "We are visiting the leaders first, are we not?"

"Yes." Naomi said, eyes sweeping the area as they strode through the city. It wasn't terribly far, the capitol buildings were located closer to the spaceport due to the convenience of it. Plus it was good to get out and walk after a day of being on the ship. They hadn't contacted the world leaders, and she very rarely made appointments. Not when one could be made when she got there. She had a rule about using Force persuasion with delicate situations like this. She knew full well her capabilities, and would likely be able to take over any planet she wished if she desired it, control the right minds and anything could happen. But power was a responsibility, one that she could not abuse. She smiled slightly to herself. "I'm sure their schedules will be free to speak to us, even if only to learn what they know of Petrovich and Moriarty."

Mycroft suppressed an amused smile at her expression before turning his eyes ahead. "Good," he replied with a nod. "Anything could be useful at this point, I'm sure. Both what they say... and what they don't say."

"Are we going in as we are?" Molly asked from behind them, curious as to how this sort of situation would be handled. With Natasha undercover was usually the order of the day. That, or stealth. "Or are you going in 'undercover', as they say?"

"Undercover in the slightest sense of the word." Naomi told Molly, glancing down at the petite girl, a ghost of a smile on her face. She could see Castiel in every Padawan she spoke to, and it both warmed her heart and made her hurt. She'd take it still. "It's very easy for me to make people forget we were even here. We'll go in as diplomats, as if we had an appointment and not advertising as Jedi. I feel no fear from the people yet, but it could be just something the leaders have knowledge of. Our questions will be answered, and we will leave." She paused, and explained her process a bit further. "The mind is a delicate thing, so it will only be used as needed."

Molly listened attentively, wishing she'd brought the small pad she used for notes whenever she went out on missions with Natasha. "I see," she nodded slowly, pausing to consider it as they walked. "If the leaders have knowledge, you think they're cooperating willingly or being forced?"

"Either one is likely without further intel on the matter," Mycroft replied. "It could be that they've struck a mutually beneficial deal with Petrovich and Moriarty, or that they've been coerced into such a deal until both men reach whatever goal they've set out for themselves." He paused. "In both cases, I'm sure that once they're through very few people will survive."

"Agreed." Naomi said, although that didn't need to be said. "We're here to protect these people as much as stop a dangerous incursion by those two. Whether force or manipulation or persuasion is being used, we'll act accordingly. Either way, we'll get the necessary information and proceed from there." She let that hang as they progressed to the Capitol building. Atoa was run by a elected Prime Minister and Council. They really only needed to speak to one or two to get an idea of the situation. She walked confidently up the stairs and right inside the door. She had a short conversation with the guard at the door, who gave her directions to the Minister's office.

"Pay attention Molly." She said lightly as they stepped into the lift and it started rising to the top floor. "Your notebook is not necessary if you simply open your mind. You have potential."

Molly blushed lightly at the compliment, as she usually did. "Yes, Master," she replied quietly. "Thank you." Not that she was particularly proud about her gifts, she knew they were only valuable as long as she could help others. Serve the Order, help others, embrace the Force. Only those were her goals.

Mycroft ushered Molly in before him and kept her between Naomi and himself, only a step behind. He clasped his hands in front of him as they began their ascent. "If he is under their control," he began quietly. "There is a chance he will warn them of our presence here as soon as we leave. We need to take care of that with him as well as anyone who's seen us before we leave."

He knew Naomi would and could take care of it, naturally, but as of that moment Molly needed to learn and that would only happen if he spoke important things out loud. Other things didn't need to be said.

Naomi turned her head and smiled at Mycroft, knowing his instruction was for Molly's benefit. She'd spent too many years watching him interact with Anthea and Castiel to miss that intention. "He'll also need to be watched, in case he has a way of warning them. Such as a silent alarm or a messaging system. Molly, an extra set of eyes are appreciated, stay attentive to that."

The lift stopped at the top and they stepped out, a brief look told her where to go and she led the way to the Minister's office. Again, she didn't have to wave her hand, just met the guard's eyes and asked to be let in. The door opened and she spoke, taking the lead. "Minister, my name is Naomi Angelus, and I have a few questions for you. I hope we're not interrupting."

Interrogation and intel gathering was Naomi's forte, and watching her in action was a good learning experience for any padawan learner. Molly didn't need to be told, brown eyes sharp and attentive as she followed Naomi's advice and paid close attention to what was happening in front of her.

The man behind the ornate desk rose to his feet with a sort of quiet grace. He wasn't young, but he wasn't very old. Perhaps Mycroft's age if anyone were to make a guess, but his salt and pepper hair and apparently permanently furrowed brow made him seem older. He was very thin and tall, as well, and the overall effect was of an apparently dignified and honest man Molly simply didn't trust. Neither did Mycroft, but he had years of experience to go on.

Light gray eyes surveyed the two Jedi Masters and the young padawan just behind them before he cracked a smile. "Not interrupting in the slightest," the man said too warmly, gesturing at the two chairs on the opposite side of his desk before he sat back down. "Please, sit down. Can I have someone get you anything?"

"No, that's quite alright." Naomi said, making a gesture and letting Mycroft and Molly sit down in the two chairs. She preferred to stand, both to set herself above her subject and be prepared in case something did happen. She stepped back and forth, her hands loose by her sides. "I suppose I'd like to cut right to chase." She smiled softly, but as usual there was a slight danger to her expression. The expression she used when she wanted to make sure she got the best answers. Keen blue eyes attentive for any tells. "Have you had, or are you having any interactions with either of two men, one James Moriarty or Ivan Petravich?"

The man, who's nameplate said Kenvit Wilmar, leaned forward slightly in his seat. "And this inquiry is happening because…? I have decided to not question your simple barge into the building."

"Just answer the question, Minister Wilmar." Naomi said, nudging his mind gently. Just a mild suggestion to tell her what she wanted to know."

"Yes." Wilmar answered after a moment, glancing away and at Mycroft.

"To what capacity have you seen them?" Naomi asked again.

"Ivan is a businessman here, and he has been for many years," Wilmar replied, shifting slightly in his chair. "Very recently he employed a great deal of the population, lowering unemployment percentages by a significant margin. We are all very thankful, of course." He turned his eyes away from Mycroft and settled them on Molly for a brief moment. "I'm not sure I know any James Moriarty."

Mycroft leaned back in his chair, following the man's eyes Molly's way before settling them back on him with a quirked brow. Naturally, he'd leave the questions to Naomi, but he was observing the man nevertheless. Deducing him, and his whereabouts prior to their meeting.

Wilmar crossed his arms over his chest. "Now I need to ask you again, what's this about? If there's a problem with one of our people, I can assure you, we can handle it."

"There's no problem, we are simply trying to find them, they are off-worlders. We have business with them." Naomi paused, letting Mycroft do the deductions as she asked the questions. They were a team, one that worked well together in these instances. "If Ivan has been doing business here, you likely know him personally, or at least have met him more than once."

"Yes." Wilmar nodded simply, his gaze shifting again, a vein pulsing in his neck.

"Whatever you think of him…you should know he's not someone to invite over for tea." Naomi shifted in her place between Mycroft's and Molly's chairs. She suggested his mind again. "Does he have anything on you?"

"Yes," Wilmar answered too quickly with a slightly furrowed brow. "I mean, I'm-" He cleared his throat in what was evidently an attempt to backtrack on his first statement. "When you ask if he has anything on me, what exactly do you mean?"

Mycroft very nearly rolled his eyes at the question. If he hadn't been an experience diplomat, he likely would've. The faint smell of women's perfume, the long hair on his sleeve, the tiniest hint of a bite mark when looked at from just the right angle. Like for example, where Mycroft was sitting now. Could've been his wife, the man was wearing the usual marker for it, considering his culture. But then there was the uneasy shift in his seat, the lingering stare on the young padawan sitting beside him, and the fact that one of the servant girls they'd passed on the way in smelled of the same perfume this man had brought in with him. An obvious affair, but with a relatively young girl. Scandalous for any politician.

Naomi glanced down at Mycroft for the nonverbal confirmation, the look was brief and she fixed eyes back on Wilmar after she got what he saw. "I don't appreciate you playing stupid, nor stalling, Minister." She said. "We are here to help, we have no interest in your power, position, nor government." She paused to make sure that sunk in. "We are going to apprehend two very dangerous individuals, who's next actions will likely result in numerous deaths of your people." There was a brief wave of darker energy in the Force and her brow furrowed just slightly, putting a hand on Mycroft's shoulder.

Wilmar's expression hardened slightly, as if he was attempting to decide what to do. He'd put up walls in his mind and she'd have to push a bit more to get him to answer anything else. "I cannot help you. I'm sorry."

Mycroft straightened in his chair at Naomi's touch, having felt the same slight ripple not a few seconds before. Molly's eyes darted to them, looking a them both before settling them back on Wilmar. Mycroft barely spared her a glance, concentrating on the decision that now laid in front of them. He turned his head slightly toward Naomi. "He fears what they will do to him if he talks more than he fears us," he said quietly, knowing Naomi would need to probe his mind a little more if he was going to give them anything. "Do whatever you need to do."

"Need to do?" Wilmar shifted in his seat again, his expression becoming more and more uncomfortable and uneasy as Naomi slipped away from Mycroft and stepped around the desk. "What are you-"

Naomi interrupted him. "Just don't resist, I'll be quick." A hand went out and she touched his forehead, a few long seconds later she was pulling away. "He's on his way. We need to get ready."

"I'm sorry, I-" The man tried to apologize, but Naomi touched his forehead again, willing him to forget the entire encounter. The minister slumped in the chair unconscious.

"Moriarty, he's been going by Richard Brooke here. And he'll be here any minute." Naomi turned away and swept back around the desk, cream cloak ruffling around her.

Molly's eyes widened in alarm and she fidgeted in her seat. Mycroft gestured for her to settle down and stood to join Naomi, his hand already drifting to the lightsaber attached to his belt. He was familiar with Moriarty, naturally. He knew this wouldn't be a pleasant encounter. "What do you suggest as far as a course of action goes?" He asked quietly. "We still need to find Ivan and ascertain the nature of their operation here, but he's not likely to give us any information willingly." His eyes strayed to Molly, perched on the edge of her chair. He turned back towards Naomi. "Still, this is an opportunity for us to capture him. He won't give us another if we let him go."

"And we'll take it. Capturing one half of the equation will make it all that much easier to finish the job. We cannot let this opportunity go to waste. As far as the Minister knew, Moriarty didn't know we were here. We have the element of surprise." Naomi said, her silver hilted lightsaber in her hand with a flick of her finger. She spun it once, still unactivated. Blue eyes fixed themselves on Molly. "Stand up and follow closely. You will stay with us, but you will do exactly as told, completely and without hesitation. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Molly said quickly, diligently rising to her feet and making her way over. Mycroft positioned her behind Naomi and himself, but still within arms reach. He took his own lightsaber in hand, unactivated, same as hers. "I'll follow your lead here, Naomi," he told her as felt another warning ripple, this one a little stronger. "He's close."

Naomi was all professionalism, every fiber of her being ready and prepared for a fight. She was a seasoned warrior, she was confident this single man would not be difficult to apprehend. She was still worried though, and instead of letting it numb her, she used it to fuel her determination. She'd not let Mycroft or Molly come to harm.

She slipped out of the room, her cloak billowing around her as they left the unconscious minister. She had the information in her head, enough information to give them the advantage. Leading the way through the halls of the building, she found the stairs, hoping to catch Moriarty from behind. Footsteps silent, ears attentive to the sounds of her companions behind her, eyes sweeping the space until she slowed them near the ground floor, just a hand out as she peeked around the corner into the large high ceilinged lobby. She frowned slightly. Another silent gesture and she led them from the stairwell. It was then that her eyes settled on the rogue Jedi, dark hair tousled and black outfit immaculate. She inhaled to find her balance as her blue eyes met the dark brown of Jim Moriarty.

"Thought you'd never find me." Moriarty sing-songed, his deactivated lightsaber already in hand.

Mycroft Holmes found James Moriarty to be a particularly distasteful creature. He disliked him immensely. Disliked, and not hated, because Jedi did not hate. He came to a stop beside Naomi, reaching behind him to pull Molly to a stop before her hurried steps had her colliding with them both. "James," he greeted dryly. "I see you've been expecting us, allow us to take you someplace a bit more comfortable."

"Mycroft Holmes," Moriarty greeted in turn, imitating Mycroft's sober tone. "How very lovely to see that some things never quite change, you're still playing sidekick to Naomi." He sauntered over, playfully turning his lightsaber in his hands. "And who's that you've got behind you?"

"No one that concerns you." Naomi said with a dangerous smile, reaching through the Force to connect with Mycroft. "I will only ask once James, you will put down your lightsaber and come with us quietly." She spared no glance for the few people in the large lobby, who's attention was all on them and who were wisely backing away.

"Hmm, let me think on that." Moriarty made a bit of a face as he thought about it…or mock thought about it, as soon he was smiling widely again. "Ummmm, no. I have a date with Holmes Junior. Because surely you brought him along. And I can't very well do that without the lightsaber I'm going to stab through his pretty little HEAD!" His voice had started in the sing-song manner, but sobered through the middle until he shouted the last word, which echoed through the concrete lobby.

Naomi's lightsaber activated immediately, the white gold shooting out in a long light. She undid the tie on her cloak and the cream fabric dropped to the ground as she readied herself for a fight. "Then we're going to do this the hard way, I'm afraid."

"Oh! Are we?" Moriarty mock grimaced as his own lightsaber activated in his hands, pure red plasma extending in a long line. "If you insist, I suppose I'll have to oblige. I'd hate to disappoint you, Naomi, since rumor has it you've done some not very nice things." He sing-songed the last of it but brought his lightsaber up nonetheless. "Maybe you'll consider joining me."

Mycroft Holmes pushed Molly further back as his own lightsaber activated in his hand in dark green. People scattered immediately, a few gasps and whispers making their way to his ears as people shuffled around the wide space in an attempt to get to the door. Molly stumbled behind him, but he caught her quickly.

"You couldn't handle being my partner, James. You wouldn't survive me." Naomi said, spinning the blade in a circle and bringing it up again, stepping just a little bit away and forwards from Mycroft and Molly. "So I suggest you take your pathetic offer somewhere else, or better yet.… Shut up."

"That's too bad…" Moriarty's face shifted to a mock pout. "Let me see…three little Jedi…one will die, the other will cry, and the last will disappear forever." His hand went out and he flung a jolt of electricity at her, which she deflected with the saber. "This will be fun." A grin, and the next jolt of electricity went towards Mycroft.

Mycroft deflected the electricity with his lightsaber, making sure Molly was safely behind him in case Moriarty decided to target her next. Then he felt it. Another ripple in the Force, another warning. Not a Jedi this time, but something else.

"You're not alone," Mycroft said lightly, turning to block a few blaster shots aimed at them from behind by a third party. One very nearly caught Molly, but with a thrust of his saber he managed to stop it in time. "You never do go anywhere alone, do you? Too afraid, perhaps? That is your flaw after all," he said, referring to Dark Jedi in general. "You're all afflicted with fear."

"Fear?" Moriarty laughed. "With what I've created…fear is just the beginning. Not for me, but for you." With a sick twisted smile, he launched himself at Naomi.

Naomi was ready, and met the attack with a quick swipe of her blade. A flurry of parries and attacks, red against gold, the drone of the lightsabers nothing but music for the dance. She was balanced, and completely in tune with her body and the steps it'd take to put Moriarty out of commission. He was younger, yes, stronger, probably, but she was more experienced. The familiar hum of the Force surrounded her as she lost herself in it, her eyes beginning to glow as she met every single one of his attacks, light surrounding her. She kept tabs on Mycroft and Molly, and the unknown shooter. She trusted him to keep her safe, but she'd be there if she was needed.

Mycroft searched his surroundings for the second attacker until he found them and raised his saber just as Molly drew and activated hers. "To help," she explained, as the man moved forward with his rifle raised and ready to fire. Another of series of lasers came at them then, quick and bright, but Mycroft moved swiftly to block each one, mindful of the responsibility resting on his shoulders.

Naomi would and could take care of herself, but Molly was still learning, still growing, and she needed to be protected. So he moved swiftly, concentrating on the task at hand, letting the Force move through him even as the man advanced towards them. When he was within striking distance, Mycroft took his shot but quickly found the armor unyielding beneath his saber. Surprised but recovering quickly, he moved once again out of range until he could think of an alternate course of action.

The shooter fired several shots at her, the Force noting her of their arrival and Naomi spun to block them as quickly as they came. She could feel the anger, the rage, radiating off of Moriarty like a exploding star. It was distracting, but nothing she couldn't handle. However, Moriarty had another trick up his sleeve, something she wouldn't be expecting and something he'd successfully blocked from her senses.

In a quick motion, he flipped over her, red meeting gold over her head as he jumped and rushed towards Molly, who was at Mycroft's back. She sent a wave of the Force to warn Mycroft, just as she launched herself towards him again. Molly had to be protected. She wasn't going to lose another padawan that had been entrusted to her care. Certainly not the too compassionate, too sweet Molly Hooper.

Naomi landed, having put herself in between Molly and Moriarty with her blade raised to block the one handed attack in front of her face. She did block it, both her arms straining as she caught the strong overhead blow. What she didn't anticipate was the saber in his other hand. It wasn't terribly big, no more than half a meter, and the red plasma was thin. With both hands on her lightsaber straining against his, she couldn't block it, and he stabbed it through her abdomen.

She didn't make much of a sound, a small gasp as the Force light died in her eyes, turning them back to normal blue. Her lightsaber dropped from her hands as her body weakened, and her eyes met the dangerous dark eyes of the man responsible. "No." She gasped, falling to her knees and then to her side with a small thud, eye closing and body slumping. Silver lightsaber deactivated a meter away.

Naomi barely made a sound, but Mycroft could feel her dropping to the ground and illogically he felt as if he was dropping with her. For a moment it felt as if all the air had been let out of the room and he couldn't breathe. "Naomi," he said in a whisper, just as Moriarty moved in to attack him in much the same way. Still clinging to hope, he moved around Naomi to push the man back, dark green against red. But it was a distraction, and they were two, and while he fought Moriarty on one front, Molly was left to fight the armored man in another.

The young padawan put up as much of a fight as she could, that much he knew. Her movements graceful and quick, mirroring her Master's despite her inexperience. In the end, however, there was no way to subdue him and her lightsaber fell to the ground. Moriarty withdrew from him with a mocking smile, and Mycroft followed, issuing attack after attack, now more out of frustration and anger than anything else. He couldn't lose them both, but he was about to.

"I told you, Mycroft. One would die, one would cry..." Moriarty pushed Mycroft back when their sabers met and struggled against each other. Moriarty used his other hand to Force shove the older Jedi, and then aimed another bolt of electricity his way. Not enough to kill, just enough to stun and Mycroft went skidding over the floor.

Cruel to the last, Moriarty wanted him to see Naomi die in his arms. The rogue skipped in place and turned to follow behind the armored man, carrying the now limp padawan. "And one will disappear forever..."

Crumpled on the floor, Mycroft barely paid attention to him as he worked on getting to Naomi, struggling to close the distance between them, despite his electrocuted body. "Naomi!"

Naomi was on fire, from the inside out. Heavens, it hurt so much. But pain meant she was still alive. Alive was good. For the moment at least. She was more afraid of death than a Jedi should be, and would cling with every last ounce of her strength to the life she had here. Decision made she twitched in place, hearing a distant call of her name. The voice was familiar, so familiar. Years of discussions, whispered promises, and conversation, she'd recognize that voice even if she was lost to the Force already.

She turned to the source of the voice, her head falling on the ground again and blurry eyes fixing themselves on her beloved. She wanted to touch him, wanted to be held. Just like all the other times she found herself feeling alone and afraid. The word barely got past her lips, but she tried to respond as best she could. "Mmy."

Mycroft pulled her gently into his arms once he was close enough, but didn't immediately rise to his feet. He couldn't, he was still a little weak. "I'm here, but we need to get out," he told her hurriedly, eyes straying to the wound before returning to her face. Too many things were going through his head, and he could barely pick out one to settle on. "Naomi, listen to me," he said a moment later. "I need you to hold on, alright? I'm getting us both out of here and..." And what? Where could they go? What could they do? Would the healers even help? If the Prime Minister was in Moriarty's pocket, as they say, there was no telling who else would be. Never mind that, he'd find a way even if he had to take care of her himself. "Can you move? Can you stand?"

"My…I can't." Naomi said, biting back a cry as he shifted her again. Her eyes pinched closed, and she drew in a shallow breath. Lightsaber wound through the abdomen, but it had missed her spine, she'd surely be dead if it hadn't. She wouldn't bleed out, but the cauterized wound would eat at her until she simply slipped away, the body just shutting down from massive internal burns. She was in no way ready for that. Her species had faster abilities to heal than the standard human. It'd helped her survive other attacks, and it would help her survive this one. She _had _to. Her eyes flew open, meeting his with a determinant stare. "Holding on." She rasped quietly. "I'm holding on."

"Good," Mycroft said simply, pulling on all his strength to pick up the discarded sabers, lift her off the ground and carry her outside. People had gathered around the building, likely gossip spreading like wildfire about the three strangers battling inside. He paid them no mind, simply pushing past them while holding Naomi close to his chest. There were supplies in their cruiser, enough bacta to treat her injury. He'd start there. Walking quickly, he retraced their steps back to their ship carried her over to their sleeping quarters. "I'll be right back," he told her as he gently set her down. "Hold on."

Naomi found herself on the edge, and not between light and dark, but between life and death. At this point, she could will herself in either direction. She'd spent the trip in his arms trying to convince herself to stay alive. To fight through the mountain of pain caused by the large hole ripped through her. Immense pain, or the peaceful sleep of death. It was a harder choice than she wanted it to be. Her thought's drifted, naturally, from the time she nearly lost Mycroft to the fact that Molly was gone. Her breath caught in her throat. Molly was gone… What was going to happen? Where'd she go? Why did padawans entrusted to her come to harm? By the time he came back, she was crying again. Her hand went out, latching onto his shirt. "Molly…they took Molly." She gasped, her eyes fluttering as she tried to 'hold on' as she promised.

Mycroft's chest tightened painfully, and he paused for a moment before he went to work on her injury. "I know," he said quietly. "But we will get her back," he said firmly, while his own head supplied the ever-helpful if she's still alive. "I'm taking care of your wounds first and we'll talk about the rest after you've rested and the others are back." The others being Molly's Master, Natasha, and his brother Sherlock along with his padawan. It wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to, but he had more urgent matters to tend to. Naomi dying right in front of him, for one thing, but that was something he simply couldn't dwell on. He couldn't lose her. Wouldn't lose her. He snuck another peek at her face before returning his eyes to the wound in front of him. "Concentrate on surviving," he requested. "For me. Please."

Naomi let out another cry as he started working, half wondering if there had been other alterations to that lightsaber to provoke this response. Then again, she'd never had a lightsaber wound this serious before. She'd heard his request, and would do her very best to comply with it. They'd been through this, discussed the possibility of what might happen if they lost the other. In their lifestyle, it was not uncommon to die violently and young. That's why they trained, trained to stay alive. And she was relying on every minute of that training right now. Another gasp and stars rushed in front of her eyes. Until she felt a hand on her forehead that wasn't Mycroft's. Eyes opened and the blurry image of Castiel filled the space in front of her. Her brow crinkled in confusion. A hallucination, a near-death hallucination. That was it, she knew that…but she couldn't help herself. Raising a hand, she touched the young man who was eleven years dead, speaking in Enochian. "_Cas…it hurts. I can't…help." _

Mycroft's hands stilled over her abdomen, concerned eyes quickly darting to her face. "Naomi?" He called quietly, heart pounding fiercely as possibilities flashed inside his head. A hallucination, more than likely, but one he wasn't entirely sure was good for her. Not right then. He continued his work, nearly finished and ready to bandage her. "What do you see?"

Castiel was talking to her and she couldn't seem to understand, because another voice was speaking at the same time. A more important voice. She gave the hallucination another sorrowed look, as if regretting the lack of it, and then willed it away. She continued in Enochian, pinching eyes closed as she tried to reset herself. _"I'm…holding on. Trying…too hard. Mycroft?" _

_"I'm here," _Mycroft replied, smoothing the last of the bandaging over abdomen and ungracefully sitting back. Whatever else could be done for her, he wouldn't be able to. Healers, perhaps. John or Molly, even, but not him. The frustration had his eyes pinching shut and his hands balling into fists, but he forced himself past it so he could _think._ "Comm link was specifically for emergencies," he spoke out loud after a moment. "And this is an emergency, so I'm calling and pulling them out of there so we can regroup." He swallowed thickly and rose to his feet, quickly fishing the device out of his utility belt. "Perhaps John can do more for you than I can."

"Balance…" Naomi tried to keep him in her sights, but it wasn't enough for the moment. She hurt too much. Closing her eyes, she willed herself into a healing trace, a meditative state where her body could heal. Heart beat gradually got slower and slower, respiratory rate slowed, and she relaxed on the bed.

Turning away from her, a frown pinching his brow, he activated his comm link and paced the room while he waited for his brother to answer.

Sherlock's voice came over the communication device. "Mycroft." He said quickly. "What happened?"

"Naomi was hurt. Molly was kidnapped," Mycroft answered just as quickly. "Moriarty and someone else. Armored, but lightsaber resistant. I suspect phrik." He glanced at Naomi and took a step towards her before crouching down beside her. "I need all of you to come back. Now."

There was a moment of hesitation before the link sounded again and Sherlock's clipped voice called back. "We'll be there as soon as possible." Communication was terminated almost immediately.

Mycroft tossed the comm link to the side and rested his elbows on the edge of Naomi's bed, hands clasping just in front of his mouth. He recognized what she was doing, they'd spoken about it before, but it looked too much like she'd died and it made him uneasy. So he closed his eyes and pressed his clasped hands to his lips, willing her to hold just long enough for the rest of them to make it back.


	4. Silver Threads

**Chapter 4: Silver Threads**

The air was brisk as Natasha stepped out onto the snow-covered surface of Atoa, momentarily tempting her to remove her cloak if only for a little while. The cold, like the snow, was a reminder of Russalband, her home planet, and one of the few things she still remembered clearly and fondly. Nowhere else seemed to be cold the way Russalband was cold, but places like Atoa came close during winter. She breathed in deep and let her eyes stray to the petite form of her padawan, now trailing diligently behind Mycroft and Naomi.

Earlier in the cruiser, just before they'd set out for the day, Natasha had pulled her aside to issue a series of warnings. She was a smart girl, sharp and perceptive but too kind and too trusting for her own good. Natasha couldn't help the concern that on occasion got the better of her and had her lecturing her padawan on safety and keeping her guard up. She issued the same lecture then, letting Molly go only when she assented solemnly with her head and smiled. "I'll be careful, Master. I promise."

Natasha had hummed softly, lips twitching into a faint smile before she'd let her join John at the window. The journey had been relatively uneventful, otherwise, aside from her reunion with Sherlock. They'd discussed battle plans like old times, and she found herself smiling honestly for what felt like the first time in a long time. Stoic was the word Clint used to describe her, and she couldn't blame him. Often she could go for long periods of time without showing a shred of emotion on her face. Sleep had been difficult, though, and she'd spent most of her time staring up at the ceiling in silent contemplation. Too many things to think about and not nearly enough time.

Thoughts returning to the present, Natasha turned towards John and Sherlock, her two mission companions, and drew the hood of her cloak over her head. "We need to find out where they're building their Cybermen and infiltrate the facility," she said as she came closer. "I think I have an idea where it might be, based on the building arrangement in our diagram of the city, very few places make sense for this sort of operation." Pause. "Are you two ready?"

"You bet, Princess. You lead, we'll follow." Sherlock replied, the old nickname slipping out. Seven years ago, they'd been on an undercover mission, one of many. But that one had Natasha as a royal guest and he, her faithful servant. It had been more fun than he cared to admit, especially considering all the teasing that he'd subjected her too. He smiled faintly at the memory as he pulled he hood up over his curly hair. John trailed behind him, doing the same motion with his brown cloak. Sherlock could nearly feel John's deep blue eyes on him, but he quickly dismissed it.

The weather didn't bother him, it was early winter here, and the fresh snow wasn't very thick. It might bother John, who's homeworld had been warm. But the sixteen year old would adapt, he always did. John was skilled, medically and on the field. At least when they weren't undercover. He was more than a little bit obvious, at least in Sherlock's mind. They'd have to work on that. Maybe when he and Natasha started working full time together again.

Natasha smiled slowly, vividly recalling the mission he was making reference to. She'd endured endless teasing throughout the entire thing until halfway through she'd threatened to find a nickname for him if he didn't let up. The threat hadn't worked. If anything, he'd been more insistent and eventually she'd grown to like the nickname quite a bit, though she'd made it a point not to let it show. It was only a few years after, when he'd been working undercover as a prince himself that she'd gotten her chance. Charming, she'd called him, making reference to a famous tale they'd heard from the locals. "It'll be on the outskirts of the city, if I'm right," she told him out loud. "A bit of a walk, unless we find a quicker way to get around... Charming." She glanced at him and widened her smile. "Of course, we could always ask around first. Make sure. People always gossip, no matter the culture. Something's bound to come up."

"Insipid gossip, but let's ask around." Sherlock said, eyes sweeping the few people on the streets. "I'll turn on my 'Charming' personality. And John has the tell-me-face." He paused. "I'll steal or acquire a transport if we need one...depending how far it is."

John smiled at the back and forth, trying to keep the little smirk to himself. He didn't speak, and he probably wouldn't unless spoken too. Nothing new, they had far more experience. But he usually had a retort for his Master's ideas. "Maybe not steal, Sherlock? Wouldn't want to get thrown in prison again."

Natasha glanced at John first, smiling briefly before turning her eyes Sherlock's way. "You never can keep yourself out of trouble, can you?" She lowered the hood of her cloak and shook out her loose hair. "Give me a few minutes, I'll ask around and let you know. See if you can gauge the transport situation in the meantime, and John..." She flashed a smile at the young padawan as she walked past him. "Keep an eye on him, will you?"

She winked at Sherlock and walked on ahead, turning up her own charm in hopes of acquiring information. Sherlock was right, it was insipid gossip most of the time, but an operation like the one they suspected always caused a bit of a commotion. She spoke to a few locals, filtering whatever useless information they weaved into what they were telling her. Eventually, having gleaned something about mines outside the city and a new, large corporation taking up residence not too far away, she went about finding Sherlock and John once again.

Sherlock and John, on the other hand, were rooting around trying to find a speeder or other transport. If they were going to acquire a Cyberman to study, they'd need a way to transport it. Republic Credits were their best bet for this, especially if Sherlock wanted to avoid the hassle of prison. They didn't have time to get held up.

John stood attentively by Sherlock's side as he negotiated a price for a modest landspeeder. He was paying attention, but he caught sight of the redhead and gave a little wave as Sherlock shook on the deal and handed the woman a bundle of bills. Sherlock grabbed the key and turned as Natasha walked up to them. "You got it." Not a question, he knew success when he saw it.

Natasha nodded once as she came nearer. "It's an hour's walk, so it'll be just a short trip on the speeder," she confirmed, reaching out to snatch the keys out of Sherlock's hand. "Mind if I drive? I'll give you the particulars on the way."

"If you must." A teasing smile took the place of a mock sour look as Sherlock let her take the key. He gestured to John and the blond padawan took the cue and slipped into the backseat, tucking his cloak around him. Sherlock took the passenger seat. "Details?"

Natasha brought the speeder to life with a smile. "According to the locals the mining operation on the outskirts of the city started years ago. Just through the mountains up north, you can see them from here. It started out small," she explained. "Ivan set it up when he moved here all those years ago and it wasn't very successful. Whatever he was pulling, there wasn't much need for it here, or, what's more likely, he wasn't entirely sure what to do with it." She paused to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear and look his way. "Then came Jim, whoever he is. Might be Moriarty, I suppose, but in any case, after him, they expanded, bought more land, hired a lot of people, swore them to secrecy and started producing..." She trailed off thoughtfully. "As it turns out, whatever Ivan was mining was actually valuable. He just didn't realize it until Jim came along."

"Jim _is_ Moriarty, that's what he went by when we were young." Sherlock said, letting a controlled breath, trying to put aside the years of rivalry. Rivalry that had sparked a showdown and numerous encounters over the years. "Whatever they are mining, it's likely dangerous. A weapon…or something to make weapons. Perhaps that's where our 'Cybermen' have come from." He made a humming noise as he thought that one through. "We've got to shut it down. Whatever it is…it can't be good."

"No it can't," Natasha agreed, her lips setting into a grim line as she continued to think it over. "The manufacturing plant is what we're after, I need a closer look at one of the Cybermen. Preferably one that's disassembled and not running after us to kill us or worse." She paused. "We'll need to infiltrate the actual building for that, and if at all possible, not get caught along the way." She glanced at Sherlock. "You know Moriarty, how paranoid is he about security?"

"Extremely." Sherlock said. "And he'll take every precaution, however extravagant that would be." His eyes strayed to the snow covered landscape. "He's likely got everyone there either bribed or threatened. We aren't likely to be able to match that bribe or threat…considering. But I have faith we, considering our skills, will be able to get in and out without being noticed." He paused again. "Moriarty won't be here…he doesn't like to get his hands dirty. He'll be away, watching and scheming from behind the scenes…he's actually probably in the city somewhere." Another pause. "What about Petrovich? Where would he be?"

"He likes to be as involved as possible with any project he takes on and he's never been big on trust, so he's likely here making sure things are running smoothly," Natasha replied immediately, having weighed and measured the man for years. "You know, with the figurative whip in his hand." When the plant came into view through an opening within the mountains, Natasha swerved to bring them parallel with the range so they wouldn't be seen. "We know this place will have at least one weakness, like most buildings. The ventilation system," she continued. "Our way out is the problem, if we're bringing one of those things with us." She paused. "Maybe I can do whatever assessment I need to do here, I'll just need a little time."

"Time we can give you." Sherlock said, glancing back at John. "Plenty of workers means we can move around if it looks like we're supposed to be there. Bypass the initial security checks and then walk about unhindered." His eyes flitted over the structure, looking for the weakness. "If all goes according to plan, they won't even know where were there."

"They won't," Natasha said confidently, slowing the speeder to a stop a safe distance away and hopping out of the vehicle. She removed her cloak and draped it over her seat before pulling her windblown hair into the braid she preferred for this sort of activity. "While you two are out and about, see if you can get anything from the workers." She secured her braid and flashed Sherlock a small smile. "Not like you need to ask anything, you'll get all you need from one look. Might even get bored with them halfway through," she teased.

"Likely." Sherlock smirked as he stepped out of speeder. "But it's work, important work…hopefully that's enough to redeem it. Boredom can be found anywhere in the galaxy, apparently."

"I'll make sure he doesn't say anything stupid." John said with a smile flashed back at Natasha as he too exited the speeder..

"I'm not going to say anything stupid." Sherlock protested, ruffling John's hair roughly, but affectionately. "Lead the way, Princess."

Natasha chuckled at the interaction, covertly winking at John before she set off in the direction of the manufacturing plant. Sherlock was right, security was tight throughout but a large building meant more than a few weak points at key places because of the ventilation system she'd mentioned before. There were two possible points of access, on the lowest level and on the roof. For them, it was simply easier to move from the ground up. The lowest level wasn't likely to be used for any sort of manufacturing, so while there probably would be security, it was bound to be weaker.

A short distance away, but behind cover, Natasha stopped to survey the area. A second later, she was moving quickly and silently, timing the patrolling guards while keeping an eye out for cameras or sensors that might catch their movement. She didn't need to look back to know they'd follow, the routine was familiar and easy to pick up despite the time they'd spent apart. It was only when they'd entered the basement that she spoke again, and it was only in a whisper. "No cameras down here, but be careful anyways," she said quietly. "The main shaft should have an opening down here, leading to different rooms. We'll find the one they use to monitor the building, bypass security systems and work from there." She looked back at them. "Thoughts?"

"Several." Sherlock commented, coming up beside her and holding out a hand for John to stay right behind them. "You lead the way, John in the middle, I'll take the back. Get in the lowest level and work our way up. Storage for work uniforms, as well as other things, will be down there." He pointed down a barely visible path through the rocks towards the compound and then to a single shaft sticking out of the ground. "There's the possibility that there are a level or two below what we think, but I'm nearly certain all the mining is happening horizontally into the mountain."

"Agreed," Natasha said quietly, squinting in the dim light of the basement until she finally caught sight of the path he'd pointed out and the shaft visible just a little beyond. She moved toward it, hand on her double-bladed lightsaber and eyes peeled just in case. "Alright, so lowest level first for uniforms," she said as she couched in front of the shaft opening once they'd reached it, "and after we get a look at what's going on upstairs we'll try and get a look at what their mining here." She looked up at him. "D'you think whatever's down in those levels below deserves a visit from us too?"

"Depends how much time we have and what we end up seeing initially." Sherlock said, taking his curved black and silver lightsaber hilt from his belt as he let the other two go ahead of him.

"We could split up." John suggested, following Natasha closely. "Find the Cyberman, then Sherlock and I can go separate directions to search a wider area. Might be easier if we're just one person wandering around instead of two."

Sherlock raised a brow, nearly impressed, but also a bit cautious about the splitting up. "Let's just get inside, then we can finalize the plan then."

"It's not a bad idea, Charming," Natasha told Sherlock as she crawled into the ventilation shaft and climbed her way up. It wasn't long before she'd reached the lowest floor and she peered through the vent before carefully prying it open so they could enter. "You're a bright one, John."

"Thank you Master Natasha." John said respectfully, glancing back at Sherlock with a mischievous eye after he'd followed Natasha out of the shaft and into the room. "Someone has to say it."

Sherlock made a face as he unfolded his lanky body from the small passage, rolling his shoulders back now that he wasn't stuck in a too small hole. Of all the test and trials being a Jedi brought….he hated small spaces the most. "Don't be smart, John." He droned after catching the look again, he ruffled his hair once and narrowed his eyes at Natasha.

Natasha met Sherlock's narrowed stare with a little smile. "Don't look at me like that, you were thinking it, weren't you? Or is it me calling you Charming that's got you narrowing your eyes?" Her smile widened, and she nudged him playfully before turning to search for the uniforms. "Either way, John's right. Someone has to say it, it's not easy getting a compliment out of you."

Sherlock smirked as she turned away, catching a grin from John. The smirk faded and he rolled his eyes instead. "I compliment people, right?…sometimes…rarely. Doesn't matter." He crinkled his nose and waved a dismissive hand. "I think it's you two ganging up on me that's got me…whatever, let's just do our job."

"Come on, Sherlock, we can have a bit of fun on your behalf in the meantime." John said, following Natasha. "Wonder if they'd let Molly and I switch Masters for a month. I think I like you better." Another boyish grin.

Natasha chuckled, poking around the room until she found two uniforms that would somewhat fit the boys. "Bright and sweet," she commented. "How'd you ever wind up with a grumpy Master like Sherlock?" She teased, throwing one of the uniforms Sherlock's way with a wink and a fond smile. The second uniform she threw at John and moved on to find one for herself. "A cruel fate for any padawan, I'm sure."

"You know…maybe I'll just go wait by the speeder and leave you two to giggle together." Sherlock droned after catching the uniform with his face. He huffed a bit and put his lightsaber down to shimmy it over his Jedi robes. "It's like you don't even need me."

"Don't despair, Master." John replied with mock respect, doing the same with his uniform as he grinned up at his master. "We wouldn't get very far without you. We'd likely die from boredom."

"Not if I beat you to it." Sherlock said aloofly, zipping up the onesie and putting his hands on his hips in an attempt to look dignified. Basically, he didn't.

"It is a cruel fate." John commented with a smirk at Sherlock's appearance. "To be stuck with _that_ through training."

Natasha gave Sherlock a once over, turning away to conceal a smile as she pulled on her own jumpsuit over her robes. She zipped them up and looked down at herself before walking over. "What's the matter, Sherlock?" She teased once she was near, reaching out to tickle his ribs. "Can't handle a little humor at your expense?" She darted away from him before he could retaliate. "Alright, come on, you two. We have work to do here. Let's go find me a toy to play with."

After trying to swat her hands away from his ribs, Sherlock let out a huff and moved to follow, shooing John ahead of him. "I think you both need to find a new hobby, Princess. Like actually working."

"You like it." John pointed out, stepping ahead with light feet and a grin. "He does like it." He said again, speaking to Natasha. "He just likes to pretend he doesn't. I don't know why. I don't like not knowing." He did a little Sherlock impersonation, earning a heavy sigh from his master.

Natasha laughed at John's impression, glancing at Sherlock over her shoulder as she moved to open the door leading out into the compound itself. "That impression's spot on, just so you know," she told him, turning to peer out into the hallway to make sure they could slip out unseen. She motioned for them to follow and slipped outside as if she belonged. "I know he likes it, though," she assured John in a whisper she knew Sherlock could hear. "_Loves_ it, actually, don't you Charming? Where do you think we'll find what we're looking for, by the way?"

"Right, then a left, that should lead us to the stairs." Sherlock said, happily moving on. "Assembly lines, or however they are putting them together, should be on ground level. It's more efficient. And this floor isn't big enough. It's just storage. Just look at the electric wiring." He pointed vaguely. "As for upstairs…one can only guess the layout. We'll find uncompleted suits, definitely. But I have a feeling that the completed ones are being stored somewhere out of the way. So it depends what you want."

"I need to know what they're made of, what sort of weapons they've incorporated into the design, and any weak points they might have," Natasha answered diligently, all business again as they took the necessary turns before starting their climb up the stairs. "So we're looking for a completed but deactivated unit, if we can find it. After that, you and John can decide if you do want to go your separate ways and cover as much ground as you can."

"Acceptable." Sherlock said, shooing John faster up the stairs. He'd, illogically, hoped that John would be taller by now, but the sixteen year old still stood seven inches shorter than he did. He quickly dismissed that thought and focused on the task at hand, which included whispering a reminder about how to act if they were encountered. John's acting skills were just barely above his observational skills, which were frankly horrible. He'd have to work on them more later.

The ascent up the stairs was quick, and he quickly catalogued how many stories these specific stairs would be able to take them to. Just in case. As he'd said, the ground floor was the assembly place, working from inside the mountain out, the more complicated the machine, the closer it got to the entrance. Curious. His eyes flitted to Natasha, and then to the other uniformed beings that were doing their work. He motioned for John to pick up a box. "Better look busy if we don't want any questions. Keep your head down."

Natasha moved to pick up a box as well, eyes already searching the floor and memorizing the layout. According to Sherlock, finished units would be stored someplace out of the way, and she knew from experience he'd be right, so she quickly gauged the likeliest places to covertly check as she moved amongst the workers. Then she felt it. A ripple in the Force, perhaps, or maybe just a sixth sense because her connection to the Force was not something to marvel at and never had been. She closed her eyes for only a second and exhaled sharply. "Was that just me or did you feel that?"

"Small. Felt it...off of you." Sherlock said immediately, clear blue eyes darting over the area, even as he extended his Force sense out. He'd block himself from others though. Two rogue Force users on the planet, they couldn't advertise there location. "Identify?" He asked quickly and quietly. He caught John giving her a concerned look as well. A ripple in the Force meant something, and it was not to be skipped over, not right now. "Familiar?"

"Too familiar," Natasha replied, opening her eyes and briefly meeting his. "Molly's in danger, but I don't know how or from what. Not specifically." It made her uneasy, set her on edge, but they had a job to do and she couldn't just abandon it midway. Lives were at stake, and it was their job to protect them. All of them. "She's..." She swallowed. "She's with Naomi, and Mycroft." She darted her eyes between Sherlock and John before moving away to continue what they were doing. "We'll be quick here just in case."

Sherlock made a bit of a face as he followed, thinking through that news. He took a breath to focus his thoughts, attempting to reach into the Force and figure out what had happened. The ripple he'd felt was Natasha's response not Molly's distress, that was simple enough to figure out. The three distant pulses he felt now were a little disheartening…something was wrong all the way around. He had a comm link...only to be used in an emergency, he'd wait for that. If something had happened, and it was important for them to know about it, they'd be told.

John's chest had tightened with that news, and he gripped onto the box he was carrying. "But…but what if…what if they hurt her? We need to do something!"

"We have a job to finish, Padawan." Sherlock said, more gently than he might have otherwise. "This is important, stay attentive."

Natasha caught John's words, but purposefully put them aside in favor of getting the job done. If they'd hurt Molly, she would find them, and she would kill them painful and bloody without hesitation unless someone was brave enough to stand in her way. It was a simple truth, and she acknowledged it mindful of the implications. Molly was her padawan, and she was sweet, and loving, and bright, and gentle, and accepting in ways she'd seldom if ever encountered anywhere else. Her opposite in nearly every way, and she loved her for it. She couldn't lose her.

But right now, she had a job to do, and because she had a job to do, she put it all aside. She poked through several doors, and took the occasional trip down a corridor until she found what she was looking for. A massive room, halfway filled with humanoid metal men. "The Cybermen," she said under her breath.

John swore in his native language, both at the situation with Molly and the fact that there were way too many Cybermen to count just right there. He set down the box he'd been carrying and peeked in beside Natasha. "Are…" He pursed his lips and let out a breath. "Are those…sleeping."

"Likely." Sherlock came up right behind them, putting a hand on each of their shoulders as he looked over top. "Conserving energy or just in standby until needed." He paused. "The question is…if we take one…will it wake up?"

"That depends," Natasha replied, green eyes looking them all over before she stepped further into the room and out of Sherlock's grasp. "Operating system is bound to be inside the head, if I can get in there I can shut it down or..." She came close to one particular unit and walked halfway around before crouching down beside it. "If we can't get inside, we take away its ability to come after us. Either way, I've got something to go on right now, I just need..." She rose to her feet and tapped its metal head. "This."

"Taking a head home, we can do that." Sherlock said with a nod, glancing up and around the room for security cameras…which he didn't see any sign of. She'd already checked that, but it nearly worried him. Maybe in a room of sleeping death machines, they didn't think they needed security cameras. He made a little humming noise and then pushed John into the room towards where Natasha was. He grabbed his lightsaber and approached from the side, activating the dark blue light to sever the head from the body. Hopefully quick enough to avoid it waking up. He frowned when he touched the metal with his saber and nothing happened. No burn mark, no slit metal. "Well that's new. Sort of. I think I know what they're mining now."

John frowned as well, crossing his arms and tapping his booted foot. "Lightsaber resistant metal?"

"Phrik." Sherlock supplied quickly. "Rare…apparently. But it looks like they found a vein here. Employ the people to mine the metal and assemble the machines. Then wipe out the people. Neat." He nearly smiled at the cleverness of it, stepping back with his still activated saber and grinning wider."

"Sherlock." John said, both cross and annoyed at his master's response. "Focus. We need the head."

Natasha barely blinked, listening to his words but working through alternatives at the same time. She was unraveling too quickly, and she needed to be out of that place by the time she broke down completely. As it was, she was distracted, able to concentrate on one thing at a time and right then it was getting the head. "They assembled these, so we should be able to disconnect it from it's body and sever the wiring likely linking it to the head. That is, if it doesn't wake up with the attempt." She pressed her fingertips to her head and attempted to focus. "It's too risky," she said quietly. "But I got a good look, and I can't... I can't focus like this."

The comm link buzzed and Sherlock grabbed it and stepped away to have the conversation away from hearing distance.

John pursed his lips again and walked up to Natasha. He put his hand on her back, in a hopefully comforting way, it just seemed like the right thing to do. "I think I can do it, I've got my medkit supplies in my robe, it has a scissors that can sever nearly anything. I'll do it. Just make sure it doesn't eat me." He tried a smiled and then unzipped his uniform to grab the tool in question.

Natasha tensed at the contact but agreed with a nod, already lifting herself up on tiptoe to get a better look at the neck. "It locks here, here, here and... here," she pointed out for John's benefit. She lowered herself back to the ground, bowed her head and settled her hands on her hips. "Disconnect it there first and try to lift it. I'll catch it if it tries to bite."

John had spent several years training with the Healers already, it was becoming second nature to him, working with the body. Now, translating that to taking off the head of a metal man...different story, but he was sure he could do it. And he was already cutting into the wires and connecting sections when Sherlock walked back over.

"That was Mycroft." Sherlock said, putting the comm link away. "Naomi's been injured, seriously. They were attacked by Moriarty." He paused, pursing his lips and letting out a breath as he fixed his eyes on Natasha. "Moriarty has Molly. We've been instructed to return as soon as possible."

John drew in a sharp breath, but didn't stop what he was doing, working a furious pace now. "I'm almost done."

Natasha held Sherlock's stare for a long moment, telling him without words just how far off the rails she'd be going if any serious harm came to her padawan. There were a few seconds of tense hesitation but eventually she turned on the spot and brushed past him, walking towards the door and stopping just in front of it. Her thoughts were scattered between past and present, and she struggled to rein them in with the one thing she knew was true. Molly wasn't dead, she would've felt it if she was. The thought was cold comfort at best, because more than once she'd wished for death when she was younger, and back then she'd only been forced to deal with Ivan. The isolation, the beatings, the pain. They were bad, but it was only one man. What did it mean that Molly was alive, and not only at Ivan's mercy but Moriarty's as well? It was enough to make her sick, and she removed a hand from her hip to seal it over her mouth.

Sherlock drew in a deep breath as she slipped by him, his repressed sentimental side coming up out of nowhere. They'd get her back, with or without Naomi. Because he was nearly confident that Natasha would bring this entire planet to it's knees to get Molly back. And he would too. He tried to catch John's eyes, but the padawan was working furiously, trying to get what they came for to make the entire trip worth it. Minutes…seconds…he wasn't sure how much they counted in the grand scheme of things. How long did Naomi have? How long did Molly have? What if they both died? His fists clenched and he turned to stand in front of Natasha. Not really sure what he was doing, he put his arms around her and held her close.

Natasha let out a shaky breath against Sherlock's chest, and reached out to grasp him with both hands, fingers curling into the fabric of his jumper as she pulled him closer. "I can't lose her, Sherlock," she said quietly, drawing in deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself down. That she feared her own padawan would even glimpse the hell Natasha herself had been put through when she was younger certainly wasn't helping. "I can't. I can't." She sniffled and her grip on him tightened. "If they hurt her, I'll kill them both, and everyone else who stands in my way."

"And I'll be right there with you. Because I've got your back." Sherlock promised quietly, holding her as tightly as she was holding him. "We'll get her back, I'll do whatever it takes."

"Done!" John said, probably louder than he should have, his eyes opening wide even as he pulled the metal head off of the body. Deep blue eyes darted around the room until he was sure the machines wouldn't wake up. And he turned back to run at the two masters. "Come on, we need to go." His friend was in danger, but at least he was thinking straight. If they got captured here, there the likelihood that Naomi would die would go up. And he didn't want to think about what would happen to Molly.

"Thank you," Natasha said quietly, inhaling deeply and tightening her grip on him just a little more. Any tighter and she wouldn't be able to breath, but it didn't matter. He was the one thing anchoring her to reality and keeping her sane, in spite of what he knew she'd do and what he'd do with her if it meant getting Molly back. Pressing her lips against his chest, she inhaled deeply one more time just as John announced he was finished. Her eyes opened, and she allowed herself one more second of comfort before she loosened her grip on him and let him go. "You're driving back," she said, turning towards John and holding out her hand. "I'll take that."

John handed over the head gladly, glad to be rid of the thing. He looked over Sherlock and Natasha quickly, as if trying to piece together what had just happened, but he let it go.

Sherlock removed his arms from around her, all business now that the moment was gone. Considering the stakes, they needed to get out of here, as soon as possible. He threw a glance at the Cybermen over his shoulder and promptly took the lead to take them out of the room.

The odds were incredibly stacked against them. One of them was down, another captured, and they had a large lightsaber and blaster proof army just waiting for the order to attack a city full of civilians. But this is where Sherlock would shine, the game was on.


	5. Healer's Touch

**Chapter 5: Healer's Touch**

They didn't bother speaking on the way out, there was no need, aside from quiet instruction only when needed. They weren't stopped, or questioned, and Sherlock had the vaguest thought that maybe they were being let go. He shook it off and simply took it for what it was. Tense minutes later, they were piling into the speeder and fleeing the mountain to head back for their ship.

Natasha hopped out of the speeder the minute they stopped in front of the cruiser and hurried inside, undoing her cloak with one hand while keeping the metal head they'd recovered in the other. "We're back!" She called out, turning in place and finding a surface to deposit both items just as Mycroft unfolded himself from Naomi's side and exited their sleeping quarters.

"Sherlock and John?" He asked hurriedly.

Natasha fixed steady green eyes on him. "Just coming up the ramp."

"Mycroft." There was no snark in Sherlock's voice as he hurried inside and came to a stop next to Natasha, his eyes sweeping over his brother in a quick deductive sweep. "Nat and I will be-"

"Where's Naomi?" John asked, interrupting his master as he stepped up and attempted to take control of the situation that required his expertise…what little there was of it. "The whole medkit? What happened?"

Mycroft led John back to the room where he'd laid Naomi down after nodding and waving a dismissive hand at his brother. "Naomi was stabbed through her stomach with a lightsaber," he explained. "There are healers in town, but I didn't know..." He trailed off mid explanation with a heavy sigh as they entered the room itself. "I tried."

"Oh my god." John let out a breath as his eyes landed on the too still form of Naomi. She looked dead. And the last time he'd seen an abdomen lightsaber wound, the person had died. His hesitation lasted all of a second before he strode the rest of the way into the room. He quickly checked her pulse, frowning as the beats came too slow. But moved on, gentle hands checking the bandage, moving her ripped tunic out of the way. He didn't bother looking up at Mycroft, keeping his focus on the injured woman in front of him. "I'm going to do my best, but I'm…I'm not sure…"

"Try," Mycroft snapped uncharacteristically, the veneer of composure slipping along with Naomi's possibilities of survival. They'd talked and prepared about this sort of thing, it was always a possibility, but the talking about it and actually living through it were too different things. He was struggling. "Just," his tone softened and he walked to a corner, pressing his back against the wall and sinking down to the floor. "Try. Please."

"I will." John barely gave Mycroft a second glance. His feelings weren't hurt, he'd spent enough time with Sherlock that a snap from his older brother was hardly a surprise. Especially considering. The ship's medkit was bigger than most. He'd asked Naomi about it specifically in years prior, the first mission they'd went on with her and Mycroft. And right now he was thanking the Force that she'd remembered. He stripped off his outer layer, sanitized his hands and started but cutting away the fabric of her tunic and undoing the bandage Mycroft had initially put on. He let out a slow breath upon seeing the wound itself, glancing over his shoulder just briefly. "Are…are you staying, Master?"

"Yes," Mycroft answered immediately, turning his head to cast a brief glance John's way. "I'm not leaving until she's either recovered or gone, so if you need something, anything to help, you need only ask." He turned his eyes ahead and closed them back up. "Otherwise, pretend I'm not here."

"Then I need your help." John said immediately, even as he undid the bandage completely, discarding it on the ground. "And I might boss you around, so I apologize in advance." He moved on immediately, talking through his next actions. A trick the healers had taught him, it helped both center him, and remind him what the hell he was doing. "I need to clean out all the dead tissue, because I'm nearly certain there's a toxin or something here, knowing Moriarty. I'm going to need coagulant to prevent her from bleeding out once I start. I'll need to stitch any internal wounds, because I'm pretty sure several internal organs were damaged here….And then plenty of bacta and tissue regenerative medicine." He paused briefly. "I think I can do it."

Mycroft rose to his feet and walked over, quickly crouching down next to Naomi and John and positioning himself so he could help. "Alright, good," he said, drawing in a shaky breath and letting it out slowly. There was hope. Of course there was hope, but then he'd never really allowed himself to consider the possibility that he could lose her. He couldn't. Peeling off his outer layers, he did as John had done before and sanitized his hands before fixing sharp blue eyes on the young padawan. "You have everything you need here, or do we need to send Sherlock and Natasha out for anything?"

"I think I have everything I need, if not, we'll make due. And hand me the morphine and nullicaine" John said, glancing over at Mycroft as he pointed for the pain medicine and local anesthetic. His expression turned a bit sad as he glanced up at Naomi's face. "And you aren't the only one with a friend in danger, Sherlock and Natasha need to find Molly. We'll be fine."

Mycroft plucked both items out of the medkit and passed them over. "I'm well aware I'm not the only one with a friend in danger," he said quietly, the edge that should've been there completely gone from his voice. "I was there when we lost Molly, as you well know. I haven't forgotten." Or the guilt that was slowly but surely working its way into his system, he couldn't help wondering if his judgement had been clouded by circumstances. "We will find her, John, but Naomi is here and we need to concentrate on her first."

"I know. I'm sorry." John said, snatching up the items from Mycroft's hands. He quickly pulled out a measured dose of the pain medication, expertly injecting it into the base of her neck. He readied the nullicaine, but put his hand on her face for a second, trying to figure out if she would wake up or not. "Naomi? Naomi?" There was no response, so he began injecting the anesthetic into her abdomen in case she did wake up. He could barely feel it, but she must have been totally connected to the Force, in some kind of healing state deeper than most Jedi could do. "Remind me to ask her about this when she wakes up." He said quietly as he gestured for the sterile scalpel.

"Yes, of course," Mycroft answered quietly, picking up the scalpel and properly handing it over. "It is a rather interesting thing she can do. Her kind, of course, but I've only ever seen her in this state. A... remarkable ability to connect to the Force is necessary." He watched John's careful movements thoughtfully. "She won't wake until she's ready."

"Right." John said with a nod, eyes briefly lifting to look at Mycroft. His healer instincts, both compassion and being attuned to the living Force of a person, were trying to tell him something. He ignored it and got to work, alternating precise cuts of dead tissue and injection of a coagulant to stop the blood flow. "You've worked with and known her a long time, haven't you?"

"Since we were younglings," Mycroft confirmed with the briefest of smiles. "We met very young and we were... similar, in a way. Still are." His eyes strayed to Naomi's face and his expression turned grim. "One of the few friends I have, if indeed it can be said I have any."

John nodded simply. It wasn't story time, and he really didn't think Mycroft needed to know about his own friend situation. That is, if the Holmes hadn't deduced it already. "If I…" He made a face as he cleaned the wound again with another bacta wash. "…needed any more motivation, that would be it." He reached for the scalpel again. "She'll pull through, she's one of the strongest Masters I know."

"You correct about that, certainly one of the strongest I know as well," Mycroft said, curiously looking at John for a moment. "Any particular reason why you are asking? Curiosity?"

"You just…" John glanced up with a bit of a worried expression, feeling not intimidated, but certainly nervous. "I mean, I don't mean to speak out of turn…you just look like you care about her an awful lot. And…I suppose…I didn't expect that," he pursed his lips and looked back down at what he was doing, "from you."

Mycroft straightened a little, giving John's explanation a little bit of consideration before he spoke next. "I suppose I do make it a habit of keeping these things to myself," he acknowledged. "There is little point in making them known and more often than not they cause more problems than they solve... but she is my friend, so I suppose that would explain your... observation." He paused. "The same would be true for my brother, but naturally that is a more complicated situation."

John didn't reply right way, working in a concentrated silence. "I understand…I really do. Enough time with Sherlock and you eventually learn the…complicated stuff." His eyes strayed to Naomi when he thought she moved her head, but then turned his attention back to the wound. "Just like learning healing…it builds on itself. Layers and layers."

Mycroft tilted his head slightly, reassessing the young padawan in front of him. "Like healing, yes. That's very insightful, John." There was a faint smile, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "You've been very good for my brother."

John blinked at the compliment, but didn't choose to question it. A compliment from Mycroft Holmes was a rare thing indeed, and he would have smiled, if he wasn't currently trying to pull Naomi back from the brink of death. "Thank you." He said simply, bowing his head just slightly. "Now I need more bacta."

Mycroft searched for the bacta and passed it over, lapsing into thoughtful silence while John continued to work. There was a lot to think about and none of it had truly left his mind throughout the entire ordeal. Naturally, he could do that. Compartmentalization was key. He kept his eyes on John's work while his thoughts drifted to the battle in the city, Molly's kidnapping, and Naomi's run-in with a lightsaber in an attempt to make sense of it all and find a suitable strategy for what lay ahead.

John worked as diligently as possible, his movements fluid and careful, even with his inexperience. The Healers had called him a natural, and it came easily to him. Eventually, after a long time being completely focused on her and the wound itself, he was done. Almost. Taking a breath, he put down the outer strips of the bandage he just finished and positioned his hands above her abdomen, fingers splayed. She was in a Force healing trance…but he could still give her a bit of a boost now that the dead tissue was taken care of. Closing his eyes, the padawan summoned the Force, a blue light beginning to glow from his hands. He spent several long minutes like that, until he couldn't keep up the advanced Healer technique and dropped his hands with a gasp. "That's it." He said, sitting back on the ground with a tired sigh. "I can't do anything else. But I think…I'm pretty sure she'll make it."

Mycroft blinked when John spoke, putting all thoughts aside to concentrate on the here and now. He surveyed John's work with a careful eye, almost impressed with the young man's skill. "You've done very well, John," he told him solemnly, sitting up a little straighter and turning to study Naomi's face. "Now all there's left to do is wait." He paused. "Perhaps you should clean up, eat and get some rest. There will be much to discuss soon."

"Thank you, Master." John said, catching his breath for a moment before moving to stand up. He glanced at his blood splattered hands and then picked up the towel he'd been using. "I'll just, go do that." He gave them both another look over, and then slipped out of the room to do just that.

Naomi was coming out of the trance, slowly. The change in her body signaling her that it was safe to resurface. A deeper breath, a small twitch, heart race increasing.

Mycroft dismissed John with a nod and moved closer to Naomi's head after he was gone. He placed a gentle hand against her cheek and blue eyes looked her over slowly. "Naomi?" He said quietly. "I'm here."

It took a long couple minutes, but eventually Naomi inhaled deeply and leaned into his hand. She made a bit of a humming noise and then fluttered her eyes open. "Mmy."

"Here," Mycroft repeated, stroking Naomi's cheek with his thumb. "John had a look at you and did what he could. He's fairly confident you'll be alright," he recapped for her benefit. "Sherlock and Natasha are here as well."

Naomi put a weak hand over his and met his eyes, refocusing her disconnected thoughts. "Molly…she's still gone." Deep breath. "I need…to speak to them. Now. I know…where Moriarty's been."

Mycroft stroked her cheek with her thumb one more time and nodded once. "Alright, but you stay here," he replied, already rising to his feet. "I'll bring them here and we can discuss it as a group." He paused. "If you're sure you can handle it right now."

"Positive. Finding Molly is of the upmost importance." Naomi said with a determined look, even as she tried to push herself into a sitting position. She let out a little gasp as the wound pulled. She drew in a breath and closed her eyes. "She's in danger."

"Yes, she is," Mycroft agreed, lips setting into a grim line. "John didn't say anything, but I'm sure you shouldn't be moving around all that much. At the very least not yet." He gave her one last look and turned to head out the door. "I'll be right back."


	6. Game Plan

**Chapter 6: Game Plan**

Natasha followed John and Mycroft with her eyes until they disappeared, and only then allowed her shoulders to slump and her eyes to close. "Sherlock what are we going to do?"

"We're going to find her." Sherlock said, stepping closer to her, but not touching. "We find Moriarty, we'll find Molly. He's going to make a game of it, a game we'll be forced to play. We just have to outsmart it. Any specific reason they would want to keep her alive? Other than some horrific entertainment."

"I don't know about Moriarty, but Ivan is exactly the sort of man who'd use her to get me to switch sides," Natasha replied immediately, gesturing with her hand as she moved to pace in place. "Get me to trade myself in for her." She slowed her steps, already considering that possibility. She didn't have to actually switch sides, just lie and pretend like she had. It was risky, maybe too risky, but she was desperate enough to think it might just work.

Sherlock pursed his lips. He already knew what Moriarty wanted with him. To finish the game. "Basically, they will be using her to lure both of us out. No doubt he knows we're here, all of us. And they have a slight advantage. Still, we'll get here back."

"We will. Whatever it takes," Natasha said seriously, putting all mental planning on hold until they talk it over as a group. It wasn't easy. Her instinct was to march out of the cruiser, hop inside the speeder, find both men herself, take them both out and anyone else who stood in her way. Ruthless, just like Ivan had taught her. It had taken years to 'unlearn' that instinct, though, and she couldn't give into it right then no matter how much she wanted to. It was stupid, and selfish, and it would put them all at risk. Sherlock especially, and that was something she wouldn't do. She stopped her anxious pacing and turned towards him. "I need something from you right now."

"Anything." Sherlock said, turning clear blue eyes her way, searching her face. "What do you need?"

Natasha stepped closer, tentatively reaching out to place her hands on his chest and looking up to meet his eyes. "You," she answered quietly, making herself completely vulnerable by dropping her guard. She needed him to keep her sane, and focused, and whole the way only he could. "Just..." She breathed in, green eyes flitting to his lips before thinking better of it and looking away. "Hold me." She finished. "Just for a little while, I promise. I know it's... inappropriate."

"Anything for you." Sherlock softened with her, not sure if he wasn't just mirroring her expression or letting himself be vulnerable with her. He didn't miss the glance to his lips, but it didn't put him off. In fact, it was quite the opposite and he wrapped his arms around her without another word. He held her close to his chest, rubbing his hand up and down her back. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and said, quietly. "I will do _anything_ for you."

Natasha closed her eyes and breathed him in, heart already picking up its pace at his words. Anything, he said, and she couldn't help wondering. Did he mean it? Could she really ask anything of him and he would oblige? Right then, especially, when she was so close to the edge and needed someone to pull her back, would he do that for her? "So would I, you know that don't you?" She said against his chest, arms snaking their way around his waist and pulling him closer. "_Anything_ to keep you safe... _anything_ to keep you from harm..." She opened her eyes but didn't move away. "_Anything_ to make you happy, whatever the cost."

Sherlock took a breath to think about that promise, and the underlying meaning. He tilted his head to meet her eyes, slipping a hand into her messy hair. "We'll talk about this…let's just save Molly first. Because we're putting her first, okay?"

"Of course we're putting her first," Natasha answered immediately, the emotions she'd compartmentalized suddenly flaring to life again full force. Watery green eyes blazed with anger and she moved out of his arms. "But we can't right now because we're stuck here with next to no information about where she is or what's happening to her and meanwhile Naomi's all but fighting for her life in that room!" Her voice shook and she turned away from him. "I'd do anything for you, Sherlock, but I'd do anything for Molly too."

"I know you will." Sherlock said calmly, putting his hands on his hips and fixing her with a stare. "You are determined. And strong. And I admire that." He pause, attempting to carefully construct his next thought. "But you're…out of balance, dangerously. We _will _find her, but we need logical decisions and calculated moves to start. Not anger, however much you want to rip these two to pieces, we can't. This is a game, we can't just go rushing into it either. Not if we want to win. We need to win, because the other option leaves most of us dead."

Natasha placed her hands on her hips and bowed her head. "You're right," she said quietly. "You're absolutely right, as usual." She was silent for a moment but eventually turned back towards him and pressed both her hands and her forehead against his chest, using his calm, steady presence to find her center. She took a deep breath before she spoke again. "I'll be fine," she promised. "I've just been... off my game without you, and this is pushing me over the edge. But we'll outsmart them, win the game and find my girl." Another deep breath. "So let's talk strategy."

"That I can do." Sherlock said, running a hand down her hair, attempting to understand what to do with her aside from just be himself. That was likely the best course of action anyways. "We need to talk to Mycroft, get the basics of what happened exactly. And then we can start from there. I'm nearly sure Moriarty has somewhere else he's been camping out, we find it, we'll find Molly. Until we get contacted, that's all we can do."

"Then we'll talk to him as soon as Naomi wakes up," Natasha added, dismissing the idea that she wouldn't. Naomi was one of the strongest people she knew. She'd pull through. "I doubt he'll leave her side until then." She paused. "I'll take a look at the head we recovered in the meantime, learn whatever I can. Just hold me for a little bit longer, okay?"

"It will take all of my training to complete your request." Sherlock said, attempting a tease. But he did just hold her, wrapping strong arms around and giving her the anchor she needed.

"You're not as funny as you think you are," Natasha replied, but her lips twitched into a small smile and she relaxed against him like she hadn't done in a long while. They'd simply been apart for too long. With him she was calm, focused, on point. Without him she could be those things, but she had a harder time, and right then, for the first time in a long time, she wondered if her decision to walk away had been the wrong one. Something to think about at another time, perhaps. "Okay..." She pulled back just enough to pull him down and press a soft kiss to his cheek. "I'm going to work for a little bit."

"I'm going to think." Sherlock said with a nod and a small fond smile he rarely showed. "But I'm going to be there too, in case that head does decide to bite. Lead the way, Princess."

Natasha smiled a little wider and stepped away to pick up the head. "My equipment is in our room, might as well just work right there. This isn't really that big, I don't need much space." She took the head in both hands and stared at its face for a second before heading back to their room. "Won't bite, though, but you can stick around anyways. I don't mind the company that much," she teased him back.

"Silent company." Sherlock said, following close. He took a peek in Mycroft and Naomi's room, eyes flitting over the scene there, but not saying anything. He felt a small moment of pride at his padawan's diligence and skill, but set it aside until they knew she'd make it. He stepped and followed Natasha into the room. "And you like the company." More accurately, _need_ it. But he didn't say that.

"I do like the company," Natasha admitted, searching for her tools once inside the room. "And so do you." Seeking out a spot on the floor, she settled down and quickly got to work on dismantling the metal head. Sherlock had been right, the outer layer was made of phrik, or more accurately a phrik alloy. That particular metallic compound was rare, she knew, and she made a mental note of it to discuss it with the rest of the group later. The alloy itself was threaded with artificially grown nervous tissue as well, which was odd, but several purposes for it came to mind. She filed it away as well as she examined what was meant to be the eyes and mouth before moving on to its head. Initially, she'd been expecting the usual hardware housing the operating system but what she found was something else entirely. Inside the head, and connected to everything else, was a human brain suspended in a strange, yellow liquid. She made a few more observations with a furrowed brow before she began reassembling it. "I don't like this," she told Sherlock. "I didn't like it before, but I like it even less now."

"I think I'd agree with you." Sherlock came out of his mind palace after she spoke again. He eyed the head with an air of distaste. "You think those are natives? The brains inside the Cybermen. People gleaned from the population here? It's curious."

"It's not just curious, it's twisted," Natasha said, quick fingers flying over the Cyberman's head until she was done. "Taking someone out of their body and putting them in another. I'm not sure what the purpose is..." Tools put away, she stashed them with the rest of her things and stretched out on her bed. "But a few ideas come to mind."

"Human, or even humanoid brain, smarter than a droid, cheaper than an AI." Sherlock pointed at it. "Clever." He hummed thoughtfully. "And…makes it possible to turn their enemy into them. Whatever the process is…it's unlikely many will be able to resist."

"Makes sense." Natasha stretched and closed her eyes, reaching up to undo her already messy braid. "Which begs the question, what are we going to do with them once we take care of Moriarty and Petrovich? They've got a room halfway full of them, and they're all people... in a way. Dormant for now, but still." She opened her eyes. "It's clever, but cruel."

"They aren't people any more." Sherlock said impassively. "They will kill us, if Moriarty and Petrovich have programmed them…there is probably not another option. Their humanness….it's probably gone. It'd have to be. Can you imagine being transferred into a metal body? You'd probably go insane."

Natasha turned on her side and fixed him with a soft, green-eyed stare. "An insane person is still a person," she replied. "But you're right, they will kill us, and it's probably kinder to put them out of their misery anyway." She looked him over for a little bit. "You're done thinking for now?" She asked. "Technically speaking," she added with a little smile. "You never really stop thinking, do you?"

"Do I need to answer that question?" Sherlock returned the smile and unfolded himself from the cross-legged position he'd been occupying the bed with. "Now we know what it is…at least vaguely, we'll need to find a way to disable them. The weapons on the bodies didn't look friendly, and I doubt they'll come quietly."

"The weapons weren't friendly," Natasha agreed, thinking back to the observations she'd made while at the manufacturing plant. "From what I got to see, we're dealing with wrist-mounted lasers, which are likely for long range, built in tranquilizer darts, particle-beam guns, and I don't doubt they've got something for close-range too. If we'd had more time, I could've done more." She paused. "We have to find a way to disable them all at once. One by one is nearly impossible, and too risky."

"Which we can discover by capturing Moriarty and Petrovich." Sherlock said, stretching up once he was off the bed. "I'm sure they have some way of controlling them…either through the Force or something else. They could be using mind control, relatively simple with basic mind and the Dark Side."

Natasha sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed. "Then we'll find out soon enough," she said, shaking out her hair and combing her fingers through it. "Because if..." She trailed off when Mycroft appeared in the doorway, back straight, face impassive.

"Naomi's awake," Mycroft announced. "And she has news about Moriarty."

"Good." Sherlock said, immediately heading for the door to follow Mycroft back to the other room. The three Jedi slipped back into the room where Naomi was.

Naomi had not taken Mycroft's advice, and had done her very best to sit up, leaning heavily against the wall the bed was next to. Reaching for a blanket to cover her exposed front had also been difficult, but she'd managed. When everyone entered, she opened her eyes again, focusing them on Natasha first, then to the other two. John had slipped in behind them but she didn't spare him much attention. "The Minister…he had knowledge of one of Moriarty's safe houses." She took a ragged breath. "It's a start, even if no one is there."

"If Moriarty knows you interrogated the Minister…it could also be a trap." Sherlock said.

Mycroft came to stand next to Naomi and clasped his hands in front of him. "Naomi acquired the information prior to Moriarty's arrival, so while there is a chance he might've taken precautions after he figured out we questioned the Minister, it is unlikely he would've taken them before." He paused. "But yes, there is still the possibility that it is a trap.

"So we scout the place first," Natasha replied. "Go undercover, keep a low profile." She crossed her arms over her chest. "If it's a trap, we'll know and cross it off the list. If it's not, then we've got a lead."

"Even if it is a trap, we can find a way through it." Sherlock said confidently, pacing a bit further into the room. "Location?"

"Close to the Capitol building, four blocks to the planet's south." Naomi said, she closed her eyes to bring up the memory from the Minister's mind. "Number 454M2. Black door, flat roof." Blue eyes opened. "You should go as soon as possible, while it's still dark."

"Good, let's go," Natasha replied, unfolding her arms and half turning towards the door. "Who's coming with us?"

"I'll be staying here with Naomi, and I'd advise you both to leave John with us. He's expended a great deal of energy today and needs his rest," Mycroft replied. "Bringing him along will only increase the danger."

John frowned a bit, but didn't argue. It was a logical decision, however much he wanted to help get Molly back. "You'll contact us if you need help right?"

"Yes." Sherlock said, pacing again, drumming his fingers on his thigh.

Naomi shifted she caught Sherlock's hand as he passed. "Sherlock…you have to find Molly, save her." She pleaded in a quiet voice, squeezing his hand. "She will never be the same if Molly's lost." Speaking about Natasha, of course. "Please."

Sherlock blinked down at her, knowing what'd happened. He gave a nod and squeezed her hand back. "Whatever it takes. We'll bring her back."

Natasha's eyes darted between Sherlock and Naomi, but she dismissed whatever quiet conversation they were having in favor of slipping out the door with the intention of gathering her cloak. She paused briefly to squeeze John's shoulder reassuringly, but was gone a moment later.

Mycroft watched her until she left before turning his attention towards his brother and Naomi. "Whatever it takes, but do make sure you tread with care," he added quietly. "It won't do for the two of you to wind up hurt or worse in the course of this endeavor."

"Natasha's padawan, an entire world, and possibly the entire galaxy in danger? This is just starting to get fun." Sherlock said, letting Naomi's hand go as he looked up at Mycroft. He flashed a smile, but took a moment to connect with Mycroft through the Force, the emotion there was surprising. "We'll tread with care, of course. Usually the best way to stay alive."

"We'll be here if you need us." Naomi said, wrapping her arm around herself again.

"Be careful Sherlock." John said, blue eyes looking up at his Master. "Please?"

"Will do, John." Sherlock said with a fond smile. He ruffled John's hair and then slipped out of the room to find Natasha and get ready to go.

John stood there awkwardly, letting out a tired sigh. "I think I'm going to go rest for a bit. Just let me know if you need anything or you start feeling worse." With a polite bow, he too left the room.

Mycroft turned to Naomi after John left the room and once again dropped into a crouch beside her. "Anything I can do to help?" He offered, reaching out to briefly stroke her cheek. "Silence, perhaps, so you can rest? Food? Water?"

Naomi closed her eyes and breathed in deep. "Hold me for a bit? Then I think I'm going to sleep again." She reached for him, opening her eyes as she touched his chest over his heart. "How's your balance?"

"I'm fine," Mycroft assured her, placing a hand over hers against his chest. "I thought perhaps my judgement might've been clouded earlier, but after some meditation over the matter I'm fairly confident we did all we could to keep Molly safe." He gently nudged Naomi to the side and slipped in beside her, carefully pulling her into his arms. "How is yours?"

"Fine, I think." Naomi said, leaning against him and letting out a quiet sigh. "I may be...more worried about Molly than the...greater good here. I just can't help it. She was my responsibility, and..."

"She was our responsibility," Mycroft retorted softly. "So if a mistake was made, it was made by us both." He reached up to stroke her hair. "I don't believe such a mistake was made, however. Though I do understand your... concern." He tilted her head to look at her. "Because we will get her back, Naomi. No padawans will be lost on this mission."

"I hope not." Naomi said, her brow pinching just slightly as she met his eyes. Eleven years and it still felt so near. She couldn't lose another padawan entrusted to her care. "Which means I need to be rested and ready to go again as soon as possible. Sherlock and Natasha are skilled...but we'll need to be ready."

"Naturally," Mycroft replied, running a hand through her hair one more time before pulling her a little closer. "I'll stay up in case they call to say they need us. You get your rest."

"I love you." Naomi said very quietly, tilting her head to press a soft kiss on his cheek. She held the moment briefly and then pulled herself away. Taking off the ruined tunic, she curled up on the bed under the blanket in his arms and closed her eyes, slipping back to a healing sleep almost immediately.

Mycroft stroked her hair again, pausing only once sleep had claimed her. He leaned in to pressed a soft kiss against her temple and relaxed beside her, muttering just a few words under his breath in Enochian. "_I love you too_."


	7. Transitions

**Chapter 7: Transitions**

Natasha was just finishing up with her cloak when Sherlock slipped out of the room, all business now that they were heading out into yet another dangerous situation. Then again, dangerous situations were their domain. It was what they did best. She gave him a quick once over while combing her fingers through her hair. "You have that look on your face," she commented. "The 'game is on', look." There was a slight smirk and she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. "Ready to go?"

"It's just my face." Sherlock said, putting the hood over his head as well and smirking to himself. "And yes, I'm ready to go. Because the game is on, and we're going to win." They _had_ to.

Not just a planet in jeopardy, not just his rival's project, but his best friend's padawan was in danger. Time to go do something about it. In a sweep of black cloak, they exited the ship into the now snowy outside.

Natasha followed Sherlock out into the cool night air, tucking her hands into opposite sleeves in front of her. Molly was foremost in her thoughts, but Sherlock had a point. She needed to think logically if they were going to get her back and successfully complete their mission. With that in mind, she cleared her thoughts and focused on the task ahead. "How should we go about this?" She asked after falling in step beside him. "If it's a trap, they could have people watching the place in case we show."

"They already know we're here." Sherlock commented. "They already know Naomi might have found out that information. They will be expecting this. I'm not sure the people watching us makes that much of a difference." He paused. "But you and I...we're very good at sneaking in an out of things unnoticed, aren't we? Never mind what happened on Coulter Three... Anyways they'd have to be very skilled in order to catch us."

"Coulter Three doesn't count," Natasha replied with a brief smile. "And even it did, we managed to wiggle our way out of in the end, didn't we? Emphasis on wiggle, it was a close one." She glanced at him and nudged him with her elbow. "I'm sure we'll be fine here, I just don't want to underestimate them and have any of us pay the price for it."

"Naomi already did pay the price...almost." Sherlock said. "My question is whether Moriarty wanted her dead and simply miscalculated how hard it would be to kill her...or he wanted to nearly kill her to have some of us preoccupied and her incapacitated. I suppose it doesn't really matter..." He shook his head. "I'm not underestimating them. Moriarty is my equal in every way, intelligence, skill, training. His path to the Dark Side however, that might have changed the game." He paused thoughtfully. "My knowledge about Petrovich comes only from what I've read, what I've deduced, and what you've told me."

Natasha couldn't help thinking that Molly still could pay the price of it, but she kept that to herself. "Petrovich is no Moriarty," she said out loud. "He's cunning and manipulative, and he taught me... almost everything I know about combat, but we can outsmart him." Her thoughts drifted briefly to her training as padawan and his later defection to the Dark Side. "I'm trusting your judgment on this, Charming. Petrovich is secondary, Moriarty's our biggest problem." She glanced at him again. "And I have faith you can beat him at his own game... you do have an advantage."

"Do I?" Sherlock quirked a brow. "I've been told that...that caring is not an advantage." He met her eyes and smiled slightly, reaching over to fix her hood. "I'm not sure I agree completely, but I suppose we'll see."

"I suppose we will." Natasha met his eyes and returned his smile. "I've missed working with you, did I mention that?"

"Not in so many words." Sherlock said, eyes scanning the quiet snowy streets as they moved through the empty streets. "But, I had a hunch." He paused. "Would it be presumptuous of me to assume we'll be back and working together when we get out of this?"

"It's not presumptuous," Natasha replied. "I was going to ask you after we were done here if you would be... willing." She paused. "I wasn't sure you would be." Her eyes drifted closed as they neared the Capitol building Naomi had pointed out as a landmark and she reached out to Molly through the Force. She was nowhere near. "So are you? Willing, that is."

"Yes, yes I am. Always have been." Sherlock said immediately, making sure to keep his eyes on the surroundings. Waiting for signs of danger, followers, clues, a trap, anything. "Just waiting for you. I wasn't sure you were ready."

Natasha smiled faintly and opened her eyes. "I've been thinking about it for a while now, but being back here with you... I finally understood a few things. I'm ready." She turned her eyes to their surroundings. "Naomi gave us a number, which one was it?"

"454M2" Sherlock recalled quickly, going back to business. They all really had to make it out of there alive before they started talking about the future. "Should be...there." He pointed subtly, just down the street, searching the Force for any clues.

Natasha nodded once. "Molly's not here, or if she is they're... shielding her. " She paused, green eyes scanning their surroundings. "Do we go in together or do you want to go in first and have me watch your back?"

"Together." Sherlock said, walking right past the door in order to circle the building in the shadows. "And we go in from the top. We don't need a repeat of Appledoria."

Natasha's thoughts drifted back to that mission; the close call that had prompted her to walk away in the first place. Sherlock with a chest-full of shrapnel and bleeding to death as they fought their way out of a rebel compound. The fear, the anger, the days of recovery and then... after. For a second she could almost feel his lips on hers and his hands on her body as if she was reliving it. "It won't be," she said in a whisper, purposefully pushing those memories aside. _Focus_. "I'll climb up first and you follow?"

"Sounds like a plan." Sherlock said with a nod of his head, fixing her with a calculating look, but dismissed any distracting thoughts. He dropped his hood from his head and looked up at the way in. Could be dangerous.

"If we're climbing, I need a boost," Natasha announced quietly. She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Do you mind?"

"Never." Sherlock said, stepping up behind her and putting his hands around her waist. A little Force assistance and he boosted her up, basically throwing her towards the intended target.

Strong but deceptively delicate hands gripped the ledge's narrow lip and she gracefully pulled herself up and over with quick, catlike movements. She tilted her head back to gauge the remaining distance and estimated at least two floors until they reached the top. Should be easy, and Sherlock wouldn't have trouble following. He never did. Carefully she rose to her feet and stretched up to start her climb, finally hauling herself over the top and landing in a crouch.

Sherlock was feeling energized, and completely ready to go, but he always preferred to jump instead of climb. With a Force assisted leap, he launched himself up to follow her, landing with a quiet sound in the snow. This time he took a running start and jumped off the side of the building, bouncing off a wall until he landed next to her, curved lightsaber already in his hand. "Next?" he asked quietly.

"Show off," Natasha said lightly, glossy black double-bladed lightsaber immediately drawn to her hand. A small smile curved her lips and she rose from her crouch. "You said you wanted to go in from the top, and here we are. Now we work our way down." Her eyes scanned the white-blanketed surface. "There should be an entrance right... there. Come on."

"Lead the way, Princess." Sherlock said, standing up next to her and stepping with her towards the entrance. "And I can't help it, I'm a show-off, it's what we do." He nudged her shoulder as he walked by.

"I like that about you," Natasha replied, dropping to the floor in a flurry of snow-covered red hair and black robes to quickly and quietly take care of the lock. Other ways were faster, but they were going for both stealth and efficiency. Her way was the most efficient. Doorway opened, she stepped to the side and gestured for him to step through. "Go ahead, Charming," she whispered. "Let's see what we can see."

"Letting me take point? You must be feeling generous." Sherlock commented, lightsaber out but not activated as he slipped into the door. The safe house was three stories, and built like a square, so the inside was larger than necessary. Moriarty wasn't here…at least he couldn't feel him. Of course, he hadn't felt him anywhere yet, so he might have a way of concealing himself from them. It was dark, but they didn't need much light to guide them, relying on their Force senses. Nothing yet…no warnings…just dead space. It made him uneasy.

"Generous? I was only being polite, letting you walk in first," Natasha replied with a smile lost in the darkness. She slipped by him, briefly tickling his side before focusing on their surroundings. Like him, she could only feel emptiness when she reached out through the Force, so she slowed her steps to keep close to Sherlock. "I'm not getting anything here," she whispered.

"Neither am I…I don't like it." Sherlock commented quietly with a short huff out his nose. "I think…wait." His head turned towards a noise, or at least something he thought was a noise.

"I heard it too," Natasha replied, closing her eyes for a few quiet seconds. There was nothing through the Force but her other senses were equally sharp, and not a second later she activated her lightsaber, lighting the immediate area with a faint purple glow. They weren't alone. "You take half and I take half?"

But there was no time to reply, one of their hosts was moving forward with a rifle at the ready. She turned and twirled her weapon, slicing both arms in a single stroke.

Sherlock sent her a confirmatory pulse through the Force, jumping forward to take the right side. His dark blue blade the only other light in the room aside from hers. He neatly decapitated the first one coming at him, blocking a shot from the second with finesse. Sherlock's style was dramatic, and he preferred to use his entire environment to give him the advantage, so he jumped towards a table to launch himself into the air to attack the next.


	8. Silver Snow

**Chapter 8: Silver Snow **

John had slipped away from Mycroft and Naomi and had gone back to his room. He'd eaten and drank again, and then curled up on his bed. Worried about his Master, and his friend, he was having a hard time reining in the emotion of it all. He'd nearly insisted on going with Sherlock and Natasha…but he knew his place. If Master Mycroft wanted him to stay here, that's what he'd do. He kept track of his Master's life Force as they walked back into the city, comforted by it, despite the danger. Eventually he drifted off to sleep, on his back in his bunk. He wasn't sure how long it had been, but he was woken up, by an explosion. The blast rocking their modest space cruiser. Reacting immediately, he jumping out of the bed, grabbed his cloak, and ran out of the room.

Deep in a healing sleep, Naomi missed the first blast, but the second not a moment later shook her awake. She was still curled up against Mycroft and her eyes snapped open. "Attack?" She asked quickly, knowing the answer as the lights flickered.

John rushed into the room, wide-eyed but fully ready to go. He cleared his throat as the scene, but didn't question it, taking his lightsaber off of his belt. "It's Cybermen. It has to be, I don't think anything else could get through our shields."

Naomi nodded and sat up with a small sound with the effort. "I need a shirt, and we need a plan."

Mycroft scooted out of bed, tossing Naomi's satchel on the bed for her to pick out whatever clothes she needed before drawing his lightsaber to his hand. "We'll fight through them and seek shelter elsewhere before calling for Sherlock and Natasha," he said quickly. "Naomi, how are you feeling right now? Can you move?"

Naomi slipped into her usual robes carefully, the extra set she'd brought (as many tended to get dirty or bloody on a regular basis). And reached for her boots. "I'm fine. I think." After the boots were slipped on, she Force called her lightsaber from the storage table, smiling slightly as the thin silver hilt hit her hand. "I suppose we'll see."

Another blast shook the ship and the lights went out completely. John's green lightsaber activated for light. "Let's go. Head for the city?"

"Yes," Mycroft replied, keeping his own lightsaber deactivated until the reached the outside of the ship. "We head to the city, we find shelter, and try to bring the fewest amount of them with us. I fear they might follow."

Naomi gave herself a second, but stood up, using her free hand to steady herself against the bed. "Simple, basic, to the point, I like the plan. John, please take the lead." The next blast ripped a hole through the sleeping quarters wall and she started for the door. "Quickly."

John glanced at Naomi and Mycroft over his shoulder as they stepped out of the room. But didn't say anything as he took the lead towards the exit. Just down the hall, he slowed, peeking his head out the hole that now replaced where the ramp had been. Sounds of clanking marching met his ears and he frowned. "Go now?"

Mycroft activated his lightsaber, standing just a short distance behind the young padawan. He kept tabs on both him and Naomi, making sure they all stayed within reasonable distance of each other. "Yes, we go now," he said quietly. "We need only focus, John. We'll make it through."

"Yes Master." John nodded his head, glancing once at Naomi with a determined look on his face as he took a step towards the door.

Naomi met John's eyes, put her hand on Mycroft's shoulder to step around him. "Let's go." Portraying more strength than she really had at the moment, she decided to take the lead in favor of John. White-gold light guided her forward before anyone could object. She spun the blade once and jumped out gaping hole in their ship. She struck at the first two Cybermen, huffing as the metal resisted the saber.

Mycroft jumped out with John just after Naomi, already swinging his saber to take down the closest Cyberman. Dark green sliced through silvered metal and the unit fell in pieces to the ground. "Not all of them are made of phrik," he called back to the other two. "But there's no way to tell which are which, I see no difference."

"Understood." Naomi blocked a phaser attack with her saber, moving gracefully out of the way and going on the more defensive side. She stayed close to Mycroft and John, they had a better chance of getting out with they worked as a unit. She raised a hand and Force pushed two of them out of the way as they moved away from the ship as another explosion rocked it. "I have a theory, cover me." She pushed two more, turning towards the group of five advancing on them, even as ten more marched around the ship.

Mycroft replied in the affirmative, moving closer to block several phaser shots before raising his own hand to Force push against one that got too close. "John, you take the right and I'll take the left," he instructed, briefly glancing at Naomi to see what she was doing.

"Yep." John said quickly, shifting his stance and blocking a flurry of blue phasers from the right.

Naomi, completely trusting her two companions and the Force to keep her safe, deactivated her lightsaber and put it back on her belt. Closing her eyes she extended her hands towards the group marching towards them to cut them off and summoned the Force, even in her weakened state. Using all her mind persuasion training, she touched the twisted minds of the human part of the Cybermen. They were being controlled by Moriarty, a suggested mission put in place already, all she had to do was fix that. She was pleasantly surprised when the five she'd been concentrating on, turned their weapons on each other. Five metal bodies dropped and she stumbled slightly with the effort as their minds died. "Again." She said and focused her attention on the next five.

Even knowing Naomi's abilities, it was still quite a sight to see. Naturally, Mycroft was impressed but there was no time to show it, and he focused all his attention on covering Naomi's back to give her time and opportunity to continue. He let the Force guide his movements, Jedi reflexes making the endeavor easier than it would've been otherwise. He blocked phasers when needed, dodged the errant dart when necessary and Force pushed back on the few that simply wouldn't yield to his lightsaber. Those in particular were annoying, but they needed to be dealt with all the same. "John, everything alright on your end?"

John was all precise movement, going for defensive motions and quickly calculated strikes. Nothing fancy, he wasn't nearly as dramatic as Sherlock was. An all around average fighter, defense was his strength. And it was helpful currently. But there were so many of them, and he was feeling a bit overwhelmed. He'd nearly just missed blocking a shot to his chest, but continued on. "It's okay." He said quickly, jumping to intercept a dart that was headed for Naomi.

The next five drained her again, and Naomi slowed again. Blue eyes opening as a Cyberman approached. It's metal voice speaking in the dim light. "YOU WILL BE UPGRADED!"

Mycroft nodded once, turning to parry another wave of phaser shots before the approaching Cyberman's voice reached his ears. His eyes strayed to Naomi, speedily deducing the state she was in. "John, you take her back for a moment," he called, moving in front of Naomi to slice at the metal man heading towards her. His lightsaber was ineffective, so with a quiet curse in her Enochian, he raised his hand and Force pushed back. "Not today."

John jumped at Mycroft's order, moving to stand where he could better protect Naomi. Quick, sharp movements, conserving energy, he did his very best, because they were essentially fighting for their lives.

The Cyberman flung backwards and Naomi tried to find her center again, focusing the Force that had been working on healing her wounds to fight these machines. She could only mind control a few at a time, which was frustrating, likely Moriarty's influence on them. Something that she wasn't able to overcome. It stood up again, pulling out a large rocket from it's arm and her eyes glowed as she tapped into it's mind, turning it so that the rocket launched into one of it's own. A ripple in the Force far too late, and she shouted. "Run!" The space cruiser exploded a split second later.

Mycroft deactivated his lightsaber and whirled around to pull John out in front of him just in time for the blast to send him flying forwards. He landed hard on the ground and rolled once or twice before he was slowly rising to his feet again, the pain dulled only momentarily by the rush of adrenaline he as experiencing. "John? Naomi!"

John's body had been picked up and thrown by the force of the blast, and he'd ended up impacting a Cyberman on his path. He'd landed hard, but was already moving to roll away from the metal man, lightsaber slashing through it. Thanking the Force that it was not phrik, he stood up. "I'm fine."

Naomi was less than fine, barely conscious after her landing, lying tangled up in her cloak in a snow bank. A Cyberman pointed a rocket at her and said. "DELETE."

Mycroft turned away from John and searched for Naomi's cream colored robes in a sea of white and silver. It was the robotic voice that caught his attention, and faster than anyone should move he raised his arm to the Cyberman and Force pushed him away. He moved forward then, slicing through one Cyberman and whirling out the way of another to reach the one nearest Naomi. It moved to rise up from the ground, but he stepped forward and sliced his head clean off. "Not phrik," he sighed in relief, whirling back around when he sensed an onslaught of phaser shots. "Naomi?" He glanced at her. "Can you move? We can't stay here."

"Getting there." Naomi said, keeping her eyes closed as she pulled herself out of the snow. It was taking everything she had to keep going. She was already very done with the day, nearly fatal lightsaber wound _and_ being attacked by Cybermen were not appreciated in the same block of time, let alone in the few the hours it'd been. She barely spared a thought for their ruined transport, they'd figure this out. She reached to steady herself on Mycroft's shoulder as John jogged over.

The young padawan jumped over a fallen body, blocking blue phasers until he came up behind them. "Help her, I'll cover the back."

Mycroft surveyed the area and gauged the situation before he agreed. "Right," he nodded, slipping an arm around Naomi's waist and pulling her to his side. "It'll be easier if I pick you up," he told her, already moving to scoop her up into his arms. "Hope you don't mind."

"_Never with you, but it also seems I have no other choice." _Naomi said quietly in Enochian, almost a tease. She put one arm around his neck to help him, keeping the other one out to Force push if necessary.

John followed them, scanning and blocking the blasts, directing them back to the Cybermen. The land speeder had been one of the first things the Cybermen hit, so they'd be forced to walk. And with Naomi and a dozen or so more Cybermen on their tail…he made a face and just did his job. Hopefully they didn't end up being followed into the general population.

Mycroft managed a smile at the tease, despite the circumstances. "_No choice at all_," he confirmed, glancing over his shoulder to se how John was faring before he started moving forward as fast as his legs would allow. "We should find the least populated area in the city and enter through there. It'll keep casualties to a minimum if they wind up following us all the way in," he told Naomi.

"We just need to bottle neck them. I can't control them all, and there are too many to simply fight." Naomi said, trying to help as much as possible over Mycroft's shoulder.

John sliced at an incoming tranq dart, glancing behind him as they progressed towards the quiet city. "What if they don't follow? We just let them go?"

"Three of us aren't enough to round them up, and Naomi's still hurt and expending a lot of energy," Mycroft told John over his shoulder. He fixed blue eyes on Naomi's face. "I assume you can't control the ones that _are_ following right now?"

"Not all of them at once." Naomi said, drawing in a breath as she focused her thoughts on the one in the lead, successfully turning it against the others. "Moriarty's….talented. It's very difficult."

John didn't leave their side, continuing his deflection, even raising a hand to steer a missile off target and back into the field. "We'll just leave them then." He concluded.

"One or two is enough, we only need to occupy them with something else until we manage to lose them," Mycroft replied, scanning the buildings up ahead and plotting out the safest and most efficient route. "We'll worry about the ones we leave behind once we regroup."

"I'll handle it, just find us somewhere safe." Naomi said, mostly for John's benefit. If it had been just her and Mycroft, they wouldn't have needed to do so much talking. She held onto Mycroft and turned, focusing her thoughts again, directing the Force at the minds of as many of the dozen or so Cybermen following them as she could. Draining, especially in her current state, but it was necessary. She linked with six of them, and the resulting firefight was loud until she simply lost control of them and slumped in his arms.

It didn't take long for Mycroft to scope out a safe place, there were always giveaways with buildings just as there were with people. He weaved through a few alleys and side streets, finally arriving at a relatively small, relatively deserted, lodging house. In their current state, and with Naomi unconscious in his arms, they were bound to be memorable guests, but there was no one except the man behind the counter when they entered the somewhat rundown lobby. He crossed the distance to the counter, and it took a small amount of Force persuasion, but they succeeded in renting three single bedrooms (all that was available), and making the man oblivious to their presence. "Come on," he told John, leading him to one of the rooms and settling Naomi on the bed. "We need to contact Sherlock."

"You have the comm link?" John asked, eyes flitting from Naomi up to Mycroft as he crossed his arms and shifted in place. He could still feel Sherlock in the city, but wasn't sure making contact through the Force would be wise. "I didn't think to grab one." He admitted awkwardly.

"I have mine," Mycroft assured him, gesturing for him to keep an eye on Naomi as he pulled it out. He paced for a little with it in his hand, weighing the options. He didn't want to risk Sherlock and Natasha being discovered if he could, but the situation qualified as an emergency. Coming to a stop, he activated the comm link and waited for a response.


	9. Finding Clues

**Chapter 9: Finding Clues**

Natasha's style was fluid and acrobatic. Like a dancer, but lethal as she moved from one man to the next in turns, jumps, twists, or splits. Not dramatic, but smooth and efficient, as both years of muscle memory and the Force guided her movements around the floor. Three more came at her and she turned in a circle, taking all three down before settling back into a defensive position. A fourth man hesitated, but he lunged at her full force and met his end at the tip of her plasma blade.

It occurred to her then that they needed to keep one alive, if only to question him about what he knew. Could be nothing, but it could be something, so she darted towards the man whose arms she'd taken first to make sure he was still alive.

Sherlock flipped over his second victim, and jumped at the next two, who's blasters were firing at a near constant rate. A swift swipe with blue light, and they both fell as well. Natasha had two blades, he had one. But that didn't make him any less effective at it. He preferred one, it suited him. Letting Natasha fall back, he pushed forward, confidently attacking the remaining few.

Having moved the now armless man out of the way, Natasha smiled faintly when she caught sight of the dark blue lightsaber moving in the darkness. She and Sherlock really were a well-oiled machine, moving around each other with perfect timing without having to exchange a single word. Yet one more thing she'd missed.

Turning her attention back to the armless man, Natasha caught his face in her hand. "Stay alive," she ordered, rising from her crouch and seamlessly joining Sherlock in battle to take care of the rest of them.

Working together, the remaining few didn't take long to neutralize. He should regret taking life, even if it was necessary, but Sherlock really had never cared as much as he should about that. Especially when Molly's wellbeing was hanging in the balance. Like the team they were, they finished the last of the armed men. He pulled his lightsaber out of the last one's abdomen, and stood up to straighten his robes. "Nice work, Princess. Missed that." He kept his lightsaber on for light, and nodded his head towards the armless one. "Decided to keep a pet?"

"You know me, Charming. I'm all about keeping pets," Natasha replied, keeping only one side of her double-bladed lightsaber activated as she moved to crouch in front of the armless man. "Especially if I can get them to do a trick or two. Like talking."

The man tried scrambling away from her, but the wall behind his back kept him from going any further. "Please!" The man pleaded. "They never said you'd be Jedi! I didn't-"

"Let's cut to the chase," Natasha interrupted impassively. "How about you tell us what you know about the man who hired you? Where he's staying, who he's got with him. You know how this goes."

"Mercenary. No family. Little to no schooling." Sherlock deduced in the blue and purple light. "Ate too much on the stake out. Idiot. But is playing dumb about the whole thing." He pointed the end of the blue light at the man's nose. "Now, you will tell us what you know, and maybe we won't kill you very slowly."

"I don't know. We…we just were hired to protect the house. No names, just a credit transfer and the letter 'M'" The man winced as the humming lightsaber inched closer to him.

"It's in the details." Sherlock said, waving the blade around. "Ways of contact, comm link messaging system?" Upon getting a nod, he smirked slightly. "Where is it?"

"Gludar had it….he's the one with the…braid." The man said with a frown.

"Got it, Princess, he's all yours." Sherlock moved away to find the comm link.

Natasha rose from the ground, purple-glowing plasma making a familiar sound in the darkness as she twirled the lightsaber in her hand and sliced the man's head clean off. Perhaps she should've felt something right then, at the very least a small amount of regret for having to killed so many... but she felt absolutely nothing. Not when they would've gladly killed her and Sherlock for credits, and not while her padawan was still missing. Deactivating her lightsaber completely, she walked over bodies to get to Sherlock. "Found it yet?" She asked as she neared him. "We should call ahead before we go back, see if Naomi needs anything from the city."

"Got it." Sherlock said, pulling the small device out of the side pocket of the man with the double braids. His head was across the room, but Sherlock had deduced who it was. "You can track the last signal?" He tossed it up in the air and caught it again in his hand. "You want to do the honors of contacting my brother, or is that my privilege?"

"You can have the honors," Natasha replied, plucking the comm link out of his hands to look at the model. "Tracking the last signal shouldn't be a problem, I just need my tools," she confirmed, handing it back over while clipping her saber back to her belt. Her eyes scanned the barely visible bodies littering the room. "We can try to find a live one in this mess if we need to, though. I think I stabbed one somewhere non-lethal. He might still be breathing."

"Help yourself to him, I'll contact Mycroft." Sherlock said to Natasha, pocketing the stolen communicator before pulling out his. It activated before he had the chance to start his own communication. He made a humming noise and then answered. "Brother dear. How are things?"

"Blown to bits," Mycroft replied immediately. "A small army of Cybermen attacked the cruiser and we had to fight our way out. We're hiding in the city. A lodging house towards the edge, or perhaps hostel is the proper word. Sidi Driss, is the name."

"Oh, that sounds nice." Sherlock said, making a bit of a face at that news. Deductions had that their transport was also 'blow to bits'. "We'll be there shortly. Need anything? How's John? Naomi?"

"Naomi's unconscious, she used up a great deal of energy on our way out. John's checking on her now, he's fine," Mycroft answered diligently.

Natasha rose from the floor where she'd been questioning the half-alive man she'd mentioned earlier and moved to stand in front of Sherlock. Quietly she listened to the conversation, brows furrowed at the turn of events.

"Alright, we'll be there soon. Contact us if you need anything." Sherlock said quickly and turned the link. "Trouble seems to run in the family. Change of plans. Your tools are gone, we'll have to pick up more on our way. What do you need?"

* * *

><p>Mycroft stowed away the comm link and fixed his eyes on Sherlock's young padawan. "Anything we need to do for Naomi?"<p>

"I don't know." John said, taking his two fingers off of her carotid and leaning on the bed "I think she's just overexerted herself, which takes away power from her healing, right? I might try the Force healing again, just in case."

"Yes, it does," Mycroft said thoughtfully, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Force healing, then. If you feel like you can. Otherwise, we'll wait until you're rested."

"I'll do it." John said with a nod and stood up to position himself as before, hands over her. "She needs it more than I do. And I think we need all the help we can get." He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and summoned the Force as before. It came easier that time, which surprised him, and he'd hold the moment as long as he could.

"That she does." Mycroft had to admire John's dedication, and he made note of it to tell his brother in the future. If they survived, and if his brother would hear him. He rarely did. Dismissing that thought, he fixed his eyes on Naomi's face but held back from touching her. It wouldn't be appropriate, and he'd have plenty of time eventually. So he settled for simply remaining quiet while John did his work.

John felt the Force flowing through him, and he had to note how cool it was. This was something that required a lot of practice, especially for padawans, and many couldn't even do it. He dismissed the emotion of pride, and just worked on Naomi. He'd been right, she'd just overexerted herself. John was near certain that anyone else would have died with those injuries, and whatever she'd done with the Cybermen. He held the healing Force light longer than he had the first time, but eventually he couldn't anymore and stepped away with a short gasp. "I think…I'm going to go take a nap. Can you make sure Sherlock wakes me up when he gets back?"

"Yes, of course," Mycroft answered quickly, pulling out of his head to take a look at him. He nodded once and rose to his feet, retrieving a key to one of the rooms and passing it over. "Get some rest, John," he said quietly. "You've done extremely well today, it's... quite admirable." He fixed blue eyes on him. "You'll make a great Jedi one day."

"Thank you, Master." John said with a bow of his head, fairly surprised at the compliment. He took the key to the room next door, too tired to really fully process everything, and slipped out of the room. A quick swipe of the key and seconds later he was flopping onto the bed, fast asleep.

Mycroft waited until John had left the room altogether before sitting back down on the bed and reaching out to take Naomi's hand. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, clearing his head to think about the latest in a long line of frustrating events. The Cybermen attack, and the two men controlling them from the shadows.


	10. Travel and Tools

**Chapter 10: Travels and Tools**

"Most tool kits will do, and I'll need a computer or a data pad, whichever one we can find. I'll modify if need be," Natasha replied, turning to lead the way out of the building. "I don't think they employed any security measures with that one, not like they do with the ones we use, so it should be simple enough. I'll know if I need anything else once I get to work."

"We'll grab what you need on our way there." Sherlock said as he followed her out, keeping attentive, just in case the men weren't the only part of the trap. He waited until they were back on the snowy streets before speaking again. "I can't help but think we're just playing the game…that we're doing exactly what Moriarty wants."

Natasha pulled the hood over her head and reached over to do the same for him as they walked together. "You said before we might have to," she replied after a moment. "Is it making you uneasy?"

"I suppose this doesn't feel as though we're playing the game…but rather being played _with." _Sherlock corrected himself. "And yes, that makes me uneasy. We need an advantage…something to take back control." He paused. "I need to think."

Natasha cast a concerned look his way and reached out to touch his arm. "When we get back we'll find a quiet spot where we can settle in to work without interruption," she offered. "You know me," she continued. "I'll be silent unless you want me to bounce ideas off of." Pulling her hand back, she turned her eyes ahead. Like before, the streets were mostly empty, but her eyes sought out the sort of shop they were looking for. "We'll be quick here."

Sherlock nodded his head, taking up a watchful position so she could slip into the shop and retrieve the things she needed. Middle of the night, but there was still the chance they'd be caught breaking in, but Natasha was more than capable of taking care of any locks or security measures. He never felt guilty about doing illegal things in the name of the mission or puzzle.

Natasha slipped into the shop and quickly searched for what she'd need to pry open the comm link and track the location of its last transmission. The more she thought about it, the more she suspected Moriarty would've employed a few fail-safes. So she made a few last minute adjustments to her list and searched for the necessary items, tucking them all inside a ratty satchel she'd found buried under a pile of cables.

Done with her task, she slipped back out and signaled she was done before they were both making their way out to the hostel Mycroft had chosen as their designated lodgings for the night. They didn't speak much along the way, Natasha giving Sherlock time to think while she turned a few things over inside her head.

Sherlock was thinking, not completely lost inside his head, but wading over all the events and what they knew. More and more he was sure they were being played with. If Moriarty wanted Molly dead, she'd be dead, he wanted some kind of…showdown. Bait to lure them and finish them off on his terms. Several theories popped in his head, but he needed more time to work through it, for now they were at the 'lodging house' Mycroft had specified. It looked like a rundown dump, but at least there'd be a bed for those that wanted to sleep, and room to work. He didn't need a room number, the Force guided him to the room where Mycroft was. Ignoring the one next-door with his sleeping padawan, he knocked softly.

"Brother dear, Natasha," Mycroft greeted after he'd opened the door. He looked them both over, as he usually did. "Naomi's still resting," he told them. "Likely will be for a while longer, but I will let you know as soon as she wakes. I assume you have things to do." He paused and pulled out the key to the third room, holding it out towards Natasha. "John asked that you wake him up when you returned."

Sherlock did the usual once over of his brother, eyes darting towards the bed where Naomi lay. Glad they were all alright, mostly, but he wouldn't say it. He wasn't even sure he had to tell Mycroft what they were planning on doing, he probably already knew. "Let us know. We'll need some sort of plan when we do get this comm link tracked." He paused. "You should get some rest too, brother dear."

Mycroft was half surprised and half grateful for the lack of snark in Sherlock's tone. He wouldn't, however, say so out loud. Naturally. He nodded once. "I'll rest eventually. For now I think I'll meditate."

Natasha eyed Naomi on the bed for a moment, turning over the key in her hand. "I'll start working on it now," she told Mycroft. "As soon as I have something I'll let you know."

"Acceptable," Mycroft replied, effectively dismissing them.

Sherlock stepped away from the door, turning for the third room. "I'm going to let John sleep for a bit, at least until Naomi's up and you've got something." He said, as he waited for Natasha to unlock the door. "He's going to need it. And I need quiet to think. How long do you think tracking it will take?"

"That depends," Natasha replied, swiping the card and pushing on the door to let them both inside. "I need to upgrade the computer system and modify the data pad, but it shouldn't be more than a few hours." She walked towards the bed, dropping both the satchel and her cloak on the mattress before turning to face him. She smiled a little. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Why do you ask?" Sherlock took his cloak off, folding it over the only chair in the room. He turned towards her and put his hands on his hips, expression the usual neutral, but tone a bit hesitant. "Are you okay?"

Natasha followed him with her eyes for a silent moment, but eventually nodded. "Fine," she told him. "A little concerned, considering, but fine." She turned back towards the bed, bending slightly to open the satchel and pull out the tools they'd brought with them, red hair falling over her shoulder like a curtain and hiding her face. "Let me know if you need to talk through anything."

Sherlock had felt the concern, but even in the middle of their current situation and after the talk they'd had, Natasha was doing a decent job hiding her emotions. He made a thoughtful humming noise and perched himself in the chair. "You still trust me, right?" He asked, fixing his eyes on her as he steepled his hands in front of his chest.

"Always." Natasha straightened and turned to meet his eyes. "Completely. With my life," she added, using the same words she'd used back in Appledoria when he'd asked the same question. She held his gaze for a moment and turned to sit on the mattress. "Why?"

_Just in case I do something stupid._ Sherlock's internal voice supplied, but he didn't say it, just kept his eyes on her and softened his expression. "Just wanted to make sure, verbal confirmation I suppose." He paused, tapping his fingertips together. "And I trust you completely. Always." Another pause, but it was brief. "Now, work to be done. I'm going to my Mind Palace."

"And I'll be right here if you need me," Natasha replied, with a small oblivious smile before turning to focus on her own task. She scooted backwards on the bed and set up the computer, data pad and comm link in front of her. Upgrading the computer was first, so she opened it and went about downloading the necessary programs while making a few modifications to suit her current needs. While she waited for that to finish, she picked up the comm link and carefully pried it open with the tools she'd found in the shop. It was a standard Computer Tool Kit, nothing like the one she'd had back at the cruiser, but they did the job well enough. It was all routine from there, experienced fingers moving swiftly from screen, to keyboard, to delicate hardware with ease. In those moments, when she was completely absorbed with that sort of work, Clint had commented there was more of a slicer in her than Jedi. A comment she'd ignored, but wasn't surprised by in the least. It was a bit of an oddity.

A long while later, after she'd linked the comm to the computer, there was very little left to do but wait until the last five locations used for transmission popped up on the screen. She scrubbed both hands over her face and tucked away whatever was no longer needed to make enough room on the bed to stretch out.

Sherlock barely paid attention to what she was doing. She was good at that sort of thing, and this wasn't the first time they'd relied on her skill to get them out of a pinch. He dove into his mind palace, completely immersing himself in his thoughts and the Force. Moriarty was the key, and while they had been rivals for most of their lives, he had a bad habit of being unpredictable. Sherlock was confident Moriarty wanted some kind of showdown, something final. And he'd be ready. They had to take the advantage. Even if it took drastic measures to prevent it, Moriarty would not win this game. Plans, schemes, ideas, bounced through his head as he formed an number of various ways this might play out.

Natasha hadn't noticed she'd dozed off while she waited until a quiet beep form the computer beside her woke her up. Turning on her side, she propped herself up on her elbow and tapped at the keyboard with her free hand. "Sherlock," she called, casting a brief look his way. "I got something."

"Hmm?" Sherlock blinked his eyes to bring himself back to the real world and then unfolded himself from the chair. A few steps and he scooted in next to her to look at the screen, leaning over her. "Good. We should leave as soon as possible."

Natasha flipped to her back and reached up with her hands to scrub the sleep out of her eyes. "Alright, then. Let's go tell your brother." She dropped her hands to her chest and looked up at him with soft green eyes. "Are you going to check in on John first?"

"Yep." Sherlock said, winking down at her and them moving off the bed. "He's coming with us if he's rested. I can't imagine he's going to like being put on the sidelines again." He extended a hand to help her up.

Natasha smiled. "Not at his age," she agreed, taking his hand and letting him pull her up to her feet. She reached out to fix a fold in his clothes before smoothing a hand over his chest. "Lead the way, Charming."

Sherlock's face flashed a mildly confused look, but he didn't question it. He reached up to take the hand on his chest, giving it a short reassuring squeeze, and then letting it go. He left his cloak for pick up later, and left the room. A quick knock on John's door and the padawan answered, looking a bit sleepy, but otherwise alert and ready to go.

"Sherlock." John said, his tone betraying a tinge of worry as he glanced at Natasha. "Did you find-"

"We've got the next clue." Sherlock said. "Get ready to go, we'll be meeting with Mycroft to discuss the next step."

"Okay." John said quickly. "Give me one second." He slipped back into the room. But Sherlock was already moving towards the other door and knocking quietly.

* * *

><p>After Sherlock and Natasha left, Mycroft spent quite a bit of time in deep meditation. He turned the whole situation over inside his head, connecting with the Force to better see their way through it. It was difficult, as all things were when clouded by the Dark side. Eventually, though, he washed and changed into his sleeping tunic, gently nudging Naomi to the side on the bed and slipping in behind her. She was still in her healing sleep, and he watched her for a long while, gently running a hand through her hair while pulling her closer with the other.<p>

In amongst dreams of Castiel, Molly, Mycroft, and Moriarty, Naomi was healing, focusing her entire energy on getting her body back to fighting shape. She was no good to anyone helpless. She eventually stirred, smiling a bit to herself as she noted her companion. It wasn't terribly often they got the chance to actually sleep together, and she loved it every single time. Eleven years of this, and it still stirred something inside her. Even if circumstances weren't the best, she took a quiet moment to relish it. Drawing in a deep breath, she turned in his arms so they were face to face and put her forehead against his. "Hello."

"Hello," Mycroft greeted with a small smile, settling his hand against her cheek and stroking his thumb over her skin. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm not feeling like I'm going to die." Naomi said, closing her eyes at his touch. "So considerably better." She closed the little distance there was and kissed him soundly, pulling away after a long moment to catch her breath and smile at him. "And quite comfortable."

"Mmm," Mycroft hummed in agreement, trailing his hand down her neck and over her arm. "I believe I'm quite comfortable as well. Especially now that I now you won't be dying any time soon." He met her eyes. "It's not a pleasant feeling."

Naomi stroked his cheek with her fingers, trying to give him a reassuring smile. "No, it's not." It wasn't, they'd been there before. Both ways, thirty something years of going on missions together, things were bound to happen. But discussion and training only prepared them so much for events like this. "I'm sorry. I'll do my best to live forever." She teased to lighten the mood, using words from the first time they'd spoken about this.

"Good, because I am holding you to that promise," Mycroft replied, leaning in to steal another quick kiss just as a soft knock came from the door. "That'll be Sherlock and Natasha," he muttered, continuing in a louder voice. "I'll be right there." He slipped out of the bed, donning his clothes and straightening himself out before he walked over to pull it open. "You've got something."

"Yes," Natasha replied promptly. "Way down towards the south side of the city, near the mountains."

Naomi had pushed herself to a sitting position, propping herself up on one hand for a second. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed so she was sitting up properly, hands clasped in her lap.

"We're taking John and going now." Sherlock stated, even as John slipped in beside him. His eyes flitted to Naomi and the bed itself.. "Are you two wanting to come? Stay as backup? Scout somewhere else?"

"I would say go with you, but it depends entirely on Naomi," Mycroft replied, turning halfway to look at her on the bed. "How much can you handle right now?"

"I'll go." Naomi said with a determined nod, but didn't stand up yet. "I'm not at full strength, but I'm not a liability either, and this is more than a bit important."

"Good, if you're sure. Let's pack up and get ready to go then." Sherlock said with a nod, stepping back from the door. "Dawn is only an hour away."

"Very well," Mycroft replied, turning away from the door to pack up the few things they'd managed to bring with them from the cruiser. "We'll meet you down in the lobby shortly."

Natasha wordlessly turned on her heel and marched back to her room, quickly swiping the card and pushing her way in to do the same. She walked over to the bed, transferring the information from the computer to the data pad for convenience before she began stashing it all back into the satchel.

Sherlock let the door close and followed Natasha, slipping around her to grab his cloak. John stood in the doorway, deep blue eyes focused down the hall, as if standing watch. Sherlock could tell he was on edge, uncertainty pulsing off of his padawan like a beacon. As he waited for Natasha, he moved to stand in front of John, looking down at him with a calculating eye. "John. Focus on the task at hand. Your emotions are clouding your head."

John met his eyes, shifting in place slightly, his brow pinched. "It could have been me. I could have been with them and gotten taken. It should have been me…."

"A Jedi's life is risks, we do not question what has happened, it's illogical. Think only what we can do in the future." Sherlock said. "Which is rescue Molly, stop Moriarty, and save a planet. Think you can handle that?"

John frowned again, looking down at the floor. "I think so."

"No." Sherlock drew out the vowel.

"I mean, I will." John nodded.

"Good. Now. Natasha, ready?" Sherlock glanced over his shoulder.

Natasha slipped on her cloak and hoisted the long strap of her stolen satchel over her shoulder before she turned to face them. "Ready," she confirmed, briefly meeting Sherlock's eyes and gesturing for them to move out into the hallway. Once out and on their way to the lobby, she placed a hand on John's shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. "Never say it should've been you, okay?"

"Okay." John said quietly as they walked. "I just…she's my friend. And I don't want her to get hurt."

"We'll find her John. Worrying about it won't make it happen any faster." Sherlock said impassively. "Accept the worry, and the concern and then let it go. Emotions will cloud your judgement, and put you in harms way."

Natasha squeezed John's shoulder again and withdrew her hand. "I know it's easier to say and harder to do," she told him quietly. "But Sherlock's right, and there's a reason we put those feelings aside." She paused. "And we will find her, John."

"Yes, we will." Sherlock echoed confidently as they walked.


	11. Light in the Dark

**Chapter 11: Light in the Dark**

Naomi had stood up from the bed, stretching her sore body up once, and then took a few tentative steps. There was very little pain at this point, just weakness, and she reminded herself to thank John once they were on their way. Moving over, she reached for her cream color cloak, that had managed to make it from the cruiser mostly unscathed. Her lightsaber and boots were next and soon she was moving towards the door.

Mycroft followed after her, having clipped his lightsaber on his belt and thrown his cloak over his shoulders. Out of the room and in the hallway, he silently walked with her down to the lobby casting only the occasional glance her way. Hard to read as she was, he got very little from her but didn't ask. If there was anything she needed him to know, she'd tell him. It was like their very own unspoken rule.

Since they were alone in the lobby, Naomi reached out her hand and slipped into his, intertwining their fingers. Stepping closer, so the cloak sleeves covered their hands, she breathed in deep. "I'm fine." She said, not turning to look at him. "Just tired. I will let you know if that changes."

Mycroft twined his fingers with Naomi's and nodded once. "Thank you," he said softly, knowing full well she'd sensed the unease in him. "I'm simply concerned, and rightfully so, but I trust all will be well."

"I know it's hard." Naomi said, squeezing his hand briefly and resisting the urge to pull him into her arms and not let go. She didn't like his unease, and it spilled over their Force connection. "I almost lost you once too." In addition to the any number of times things could have gone horribly wrong but didn't, that needn't be said. "We do not have control over what will be, only shape it as we can to the best of our ability. But I have faith that we can succeed here." She smiled at him briefly and caught Sherlock coming from the other side of the room. They'd finish the conversation in Enochian if need be. One of the many benefits of it.

Mycroft's eyes followed Naomi's to his brother and he straightened to his full height in preparation. "I'm confident we can succeed here too," he replied quietly. "Naturally, I will do my best to make sure that happens. _And we will both keep our promise and live forever,_" he finished in Enochian just as Sherlock, John and Natasha neared them. "Are we ready?"

Sherlock slowed as he neared to two of them. "Are we walking or stealing a landspeeder?" Before John could say anything, Sherlock put a hand out to shush him. "We're not going to get arrested."

"A landspeeder's quicker, but if we're going for stealth it's probably not the way to go," Natasha commented as she came to a stop just behind Sherlock and John. "We're ready."

Naomi smiled slightly, but it was soft and nearly unnoticeable. "Let's borrow one then. Ride it in as close as is safe and then walk the rest of the way in. It is on the other side of the city, it'll be midmorning by the time we get there. And I'd rather not expend the energy on walking."

"Agreed? Okay." Sherlock said, not bothering to receive any more confirmation than that as he zipped away from the group and headed for the door, black cloak flowing out behind him in the dramatic manner he admitted to liking.

Naomi had, regretfully, let go of Mycroft's hand, and caught John as they followed Sherlock, falling into step with him. "I'd like to thank you again, John. You've been very brave, and very determined. I am very glad you are here."

"Thank you, Master." John said, glancing over at her. He took a second to understand getting a compliment from Mycroft _and_ Naomi in the same could hours. He chalked it up to her nearly dying, and just nodded his head. "I'm just doing what I can."

Mycroft followed after John and Naomi, while Natasha drew the hood of her cloak over her head and brought up the rear. Mycroft didn't speak, hands clasped behind his back as he moved in quiet meditation. Natasha silently observed the group for a moment, before clearing her head for what lay ahead. Molly was never far away from her thoughts, but she'd studiously kept herself in check after her initial breakdown. She'd spent a long time mastering her emotions, and then remastering them during her separation from Sherlock. She wouldn't let so much hard work go to waste now, not when so many things hung in the balance.

Still, there was tension in the air, or perhaps a faint warning in the Force. Closing her eyes, she reached out to Molly for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Sherlock quickly found a land speeder, something that would fit the five of them. Though if deductions over the course of several years were correct, he wasn't sure Naomi and Mycroft would mind being squished together. He made a note to address it another day. He took the driver's side, eyeing it for a moment before slipping in to get it started. It wasn't particularly nice, and was outside a rundown house. A quick deduction put them as late night partiers, which means they wouldn't miss the speeder until later that afternoon, plenty of time to leave it somewhere else. He'd been properly ignoring the different feelings that were seeping off of them. John's nervousness and guilt. Naomi's pained concern. Mycroft's unease. And then Natasha… He felt a tug of compassion on his mind, but let it be. Things to do, and he had a hard time understanding emotion, it was a distraction.

John eyed the speeder, but then slipped into the back seat next to Naomi, folding his cloak around himself as the wind picked up. Once everyone was safely inside, Sherlock fired up the repulsers and they took off down the street.

Natasha leaned back against the passenger seat beside Sherlock as they sped forward and pulled out the data pad to chart out their trajectory. Their intended destination wouldn't be far away with their chosen mode of transportation, but it was still a bit of a drive, what with twists and turns through deserted but narrow streets. It was only when they were nearing the building that she put it away and closed her eyes against the cool, early winter air.

Meanwhile, Mycroft surveyed the group from his seat while covertly holding Naomi's hand between them. Their sleeves as well as their positioning ensured they wouldn't be discovered, but he kept the contact brief. It was meant to reassure, both her and himself, in a physical way. Unneeded, but certainly not unwanted.

Eventually, Natasha opened her eyes and leaned forward in her seat. Her eyes narrowed against the breeze as they neared the specified location. "Over there. You see it?"

"See what?" Sherlock didn't look away from the street as he slowed the speeder down, extending his Force senses towards the dark area she was looking at. "We aren't quite there yet…"

"The mountain." Naomi supplied quietly from the back, keeping her voice down. "There's a light. Maybe just a civilian, but it feels different."

"Another place they are keeping Cybermen?" John asked.

"Or a home base." Naomi answered.

Natasha confirmed Naomi's words with a nod, eyes still fixed on the spot she'd caught the flash. "There it is again," she said quietly, this time pointing towards the spot so Sherlock could see. Her lips pursed as she tried to decide whether or not it was a good idea to go on the speeder. "If it is a home base, there's bound to be a lot of security. You mentioned before that Moriarty would take every precaution."

"We shouldn't go on foot all the way up either," Mycroft replied from his place.

"So we get close," Natasha said. "As far up as we can manage without being seen."

"Security…plus the fact that we're walking right into a trap." Sherlock said, leaning back in his seat.

"If you know it's a trap, it's easier to beat it." Naomi replied gently. "The mountain does give many opportunities for hazardous terrain, but it does not choose sides, you can use it to your advantage as well."

Sherlock hummed thoughtfully, pushing the speeder forward again."Can you feel Molly?" He asked, glancing over at Natasha.

"Yes," Natasha answered immediately. "She's there, she's alive, and not as scared as I would've imagined. She's... determined." A small proud smile curved her lips, but it disappeared just as quickly. "I'm with Naomi, we use the terrain to our advantage. For cover, mostly, because once we're in, we're in for good."

"Deal. I'll get this as close as I can. And then it looks like we're going mountain climbing." Sherlock said, his eyes flitting up to the mountain, now lit by the gentle rays of a new sunrise. A waterfall he hadn't noticed the day before streamed from underneath where the light had been, now properly concealed. If you weren't looking for it, the building would not have been seen. Lucky break? The Force guiding them? A signal from Molly? A trap? Any number of possibilities arose. Thankfully, he was sure he had a course of action for anything that might happen. He glanced at his brother over his shoulder, but then took a turn and faced forward again. It was a couple minutes of driving very quickly and sharp turns, but he found a place to park the speeder. He hopped out, followed closely by John, and stood, looking up at it with renewed determination.

Natasha hopped out of the speeder on her side, casting a quick look up the mountain before turning to leave the satchel on her seat. What they were about to do was risky, and always there was a possibility that one or more of them would get hurt. Naomi had been hurt already and barely survived, it was only logical for her to think about the possibility that she might be hurt as well**.** Or worse. Sherlock, John, Naomi, they'd survive if she died, but Molly would need someone to not just take over her training but help her through the loss. Only one person came to mind for that. Her eyes drifted to Naomi and she regretted not having spoken to her sooner, but there was no time for that now. "Alright." She turned back towards the mountain. "Let's go."

Mycroft hadn't missed Sherlock's look and his eyes inevitably lingered on his brother. It was just as he was about to pull him aside and ask when he felt a strong ripple through the Force. His eyes strayed to the city and a small frown creased his brow. "Naomi."

"Cybermen." Naomi said, having felt the ripple as well. It wasn't a good one. She straightened herself up to her full height, already pulling her lightsaber out. "In the city."

"The people here." John said, a little too loudly. "What if…?" He was interrupted by an explosion a few blocks away.

"Sherlock, Natasha, I'd advise you go now. Mycroft and I can handle it as best we can here." Naomi said.

"What about me?" John asked, eyes darting to Sherlock.

"You'll come with us. You're my padawan, and we will need you." Sherlock said, glancing at Mycroft for confirmation.

"Naomi and I will take care of the city, you three go on," Mycroft confirmed with a nod. Using the Force, he drew his lightsaber to his hand. "We'll meet back here to regroup and use comm links only if necessary."

"Be safe," Natasha replied, already moving towards the mountain to start their climb.

Sherlock took off after Natasha, John on his heels. The mountain was rocky and snow covered, trees dotted up and down. But there was a path to be found. He estimated the climb shouldn't take them more than twenty minutes, not with Force jumps and sheer determination. He launched himself up, landing next to Natasha in a crouch. "You alright?"

Natasha glanced at him, determined green locking with blue. "Yeah, I'm fine." She looked back up at the mountain and tensed her body, ready to Force jump again. "I've got your back and you've got mine" The next bit she added with the slightest hint of a tease. "Just keep up, Charming." Her body launched upwards and she had to climb for a bit before she reached another edge wide enough for her to jump again.

Sherlock smirked slightly. Yes, Molly was in trouble. Yes, the planet was about to be overrun by an army of Cybermen. Yes, his rival, who'd nearly kill both him and John last time they met back when John was still very young, was here and out for blood. But Sherlock was actually enjoying this. He was working with his padawan and his partner, and otherwise a very skilled team. So he 'kept up'. Working as the well oiled team they were, even with padawans. He was definitely looking forward to getting back to work with her. But first, save the world. He could do that. He miscalculated a jump, and nearly fell, but flipped himself onto the next ledge with a smirk.

John was tired, he'd admit to that. However, he was fully alert and ready to take on whatever trap lay ahead of them. His missions with Sherlock rarely ever went completely perfectly. There was always some trouble. Both his Master's affinity for these things, and the kinds of missions they were sent on. Just last month had them both stranded on an island by an angry crime lord. He'd take the hot sun of that over the ever decreasing temperatures of the mountain any day. Pushing those thoughts aside, he jumped up, following Sherlock and Natasha as best he could.

Natasha sprang up onto a narrow ledge and plastered herself front-first against the jagged, snow-covered surface. Her eyes drifted up the side of the mountain, icy wind whipping her black robes and red hair around her with increasing force the higher up she went. For the second time during their visit to Atoa she was reminded of her homeplanet and the cold winds that were so characteristic of its climate. She'd only visited the place once more after she'd been brought to the Temple, a dangerous mission that had them trudging through snow to get from one place to another through the entire ordeal.

Then, like now, Sherlock had been with her, both of them working with their padawans to take down a growing but elusive threat to Russalband's security known only as the Winter Soldier. Then, like now, Sherlock had been enjoying himself, while John and Molly commiserated over the lack of heat. Then, like now, she'd been confident they'd succeed because, like Sherlock, she'd been enjoying herself too and they were always at their finest, at their sharpest, and at their very best when they were enjoying the game. Except that now, unlike then, Molly wasn't with them, and Natasha didn't take kindly to that.

Yes, she'd missed Sherlock, and yes, she was ready to go back to work with him. Now more than ever she was convinced that staying away for so long was a mistake, but it was a mistake she'd rectify. Later. Later when Molly was safely back in her care, the world was safe, and both men were brought to justice. She couldn't help thinking that when facing the odds they were facing, she couldn't ask for a better team, or a better partner.

Now, she stretched out her hand, took hold and Force pushed herself up the mountain, carefully moving from ledge to ledge until she was finally hauling herself over the top with a laugh on her lips.

The building, carved from the rock itself, was larger now that they were up at the top. Sherlock barely noticed the wind, or the snow, or the chill, he'd accepted it and let it go. The only thing that mattered was the mission, the game. Moriarty was up there…and they'd all dimmed their Force presence to hopefully conceal their approach. Surprise was of the essence. He leaned over the edge he'd just jumped onto to help John up the rest of the way, grabbing his padawan's hand in a firm grip. Once John was standing, Sherlock slipped in next to Natasha, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "You take point?"

Natasha nodded once in reply and fixed her eyes on the massive two-storied building now towering over them some distance away. She could sense Molly on the top floor but security was bound to be tight throughout the building, so they really only had two options. They could either march their way in through the front door, using what little element of surprise they had left. Or they could climb up from the outside and fight their way down once they had Molly in their care. Either way, she was sure they'd be fighting more than their fair share of opponents, aside from the two men they'd come to find. The only question was whether they'd be fighting against them as three or as four. Decisions, decisions.

She turned her head toward him and spoke in a whisper. "We climb up to the top floor from the outside and find Molly first."

"There's a balcony up there." Sherlock noted quietly, putting a hand on John's shoulder to bring him in. "Good landing point, if we scale the other side. One of them will be probably there with Molly, wherever she is. Can't tell who, or where the other one is." The Dark Side was prevalent here, but distinguishing them meant filtering through a excess of negative Force energy, and he couldn't pinpoint who was where.

"Then we go in through the balcony," Natasha replied quietly, reaching up to pull her windblown hair into the long red braid she preferred for battle. "I'll take care of Molly and whoever's with her, you two handle the rest. I'll join in and help as soon as I'm able." She glanced at John but settled her eyes on Sherlock. "Agreed?"

Sherlock pursed his lips briefly, thinking through it. "That will do for now, but let's keep our options open." He paused again, letting the dull roar of the waterfall push through his mind as he thought over the next few steps. Their priority should be Moriarty and Petrovich, but they were probably going to be where Molly was. They'd find her first. "Anyways, I'm sure John and I can handle it."

"I'll try to be quick with Molly," Natasha assured him. "Four of us will be better than three." _If she's in any condition to fight,_ her mind supplied needlessly. Her jaw clenched, and she strengthened her resolve. "If she's hurt... too hurt to help... we'll reevaluate."

"We can think on our feet, Princess, we're good at that." Sherlock said, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and then moving around the base of the building to the other side where they could scale up the rock next to the waterfall. "Let's get in there first."

Natasha spared only a brief glance for the waterfall before turning to follow both him and John up the rock. With their skills, it wasn't long before they were pulling themselves up and over the balcony to land in a quiet crouch. Natasha's eyes did the usual scan of their surroundings.

The balcony itself was long and wide, and towards the middle there was a set of ornate double doors, closed and presumably locked. Or perhaps not, if they were expecting them. She shrugged out of her cloak and dropped it in a corner before reaching for her lightsaber and turning towards Sherlock with a look and a tilt of her head that signaled she was going in first.

Sherlock nodded simply, very attune to the usual nonverbal communication. He'd taken his cloak off as well, tossing it towards a corner of the balcony for later retrieval, if necessary. The chill didn't bother him, and he would do without if necessary. His eyes swept the balcony, doing a quick calculation of it if they used it as an escape route. Once again meeting Natasha's eyes, he winked and gave her a little smirk, giving her the 'go ahead'.

John, on the other hand, would take clues from his Master. The 'separation' had been three years ago, so the padawan was much more accustomed to working solo with Sherlock. Not like he hadn't had any contact with Natasha, just not outside of the temple. He pulled out his lightsaber, tossed his cloak, and waited.

Natasha's lips curved into a small smirk and she turned and silently made her way to the double doors. Reaching for one of the handles, she twisted the nearly frozen metal and gave the door the slightest push. It gave way, and she couldn't help thinking it was all too easy. Then again, they'd always known there was a possibility it would be. Such was the nature of walking into a trap. With another glance at Sherlock, Natasha slipped in through the door and activated her lightsaber, green eyes sharp as she took in the scene in front of her.

Cybermen were guarding the room, still and quiet but decidedly awake, if that was the proper word for it. From her position she could count almost a dozen, but she was sure there were areas blocked from her view. Two mercenaries guarded doors on either side as well, but dead center was Molly in a set of glowing blue shackles, wide awake but eyes pinched closed. It was a split second of observation, and a moment later a familiar looking man stepped out from behind her. "Ivan."

"Tsarina," he greeted with a smile. "It's been a while."


	12. Spider's Web

**Chapter 12: Spider's Web**

Sherlock let out a slow breath, eyes darting over the obvious trap. They knew it, but it still was uncomfortable. No sign of Moriarty yet, but Petrovich stood uncomfortably close to Molly. It wouldn't take much more than a small motion for him to kill her. The Cybermen too, any sort of firefight would leave Molly more than vulnerable. Sherlock stepped forward next to Natasha, blue lightsaber pointed at the ground for the moment, keeping John mostly behind him. He flashed a too polite smile. "Hello there. Name's Sherlock Holmes, perhaps you remember me? I think we can come to some sort of agreement here. I really wouldn't want to kill you so soon after seeing you again."

Ivan widened his smile. "Sherlock Holmes," he said in acknowledgment, gesturing for them to deactivate their lightsabers. "There's plenty of room for agreement here, I only want one thing." He pointed at Natasha. "Her. In exchange for the girl."

Natasha raised a brow and straightened. "You'll forgive us if we don't exactly take your word for it, considering the circumstances," she said lightly. "How about you take his deal instead? You give us Molly now and I don't cut to pieces and toss them off the balcony."

Ivan watched Natasha with amused eyes before turning his attention back to Sherlock. "Close to the edge, isn't she?" He took a step towards Molly. "All she needs is a little push."

"You think you'd survive that?" Sherlock asked with a scoff. "You wouldn't survive her, and you most definitely wouldn't survive me."

John tensed at Ivan Petrovich took a step closer to Molly, he tried connecting with her, attempting to reassure her that everyone was going to be alright…even though he had a bad feeling it wouldn't be. His eyes darted to the Cybermen, trying to push his way into their minds as Naomi had done. He wasn't trained or skilled enough for that, so he gave up after a moment of concentration.

If Molly could've, she would've flinched when she felt Ivan come nearer. As it was, she was doing her best to keep quiet and calm within the circumstances; same as she'd been doing from the minute she'd been taken. It wasn't easy, but Jedi weren't supposed to be afraid and she'd been fighting long and hard to embrace that concept from the moment Moriarty had dragged her away from Mycroft and Naomi.

It was only when she'd heard Natasha's voice followed by Sherlock's that she'd even dared open her eyes. Relief was immediate, and she'd reached out to them through the Force, only slightly surprised to find John there. They'd all come for her. Her eyes had opened completely then, but she still didn't dare say a word. Ivan was too close, and the few hours she'd spent with him were more than enough to learn her lesson. The cuts and bruises hidden by her robes were proof enough of it. She'd do as she was told until she was free of both him and Moriarty.

Meanwhile, Natasha surveyed Ivan with cold green eyes. "I'm giving you one more chance to reconsider and hand her over," she told Ivan. "If you don't, there will be no army of Cybermen, no Moriarty, not mercenary, no deity, and absolutely no place to give you safety." She took a step toward him and separated her double-bladed lightsaber into two separate weapons. "And if you think me being on the edge will sway me to your side, think again." She paused. "So what's it going to be?"

"You've heard my offer," Ivan replied, reaching for his own lightsaber. Bright red plasma shot out in a thin line. "You for the girl."

"Oh dear me." Jim Moriarty walked into the room like he owned the place…because likely he did. A slow walk, through the Cybermen and towards the little group, hands in his pockets. "You started the party without me? And didn't call?"

Sherlock's blue eyes drifted to Moriarty, to meet the soulless dark ones. "Jim. Fancy seeing you here."

"Is that your lightsaber, or are you just pleased to see me, Sherlock?" Moriarty said with a dangerous smirk, pulling a hand out of a pocket to sweep through his short dark hair.

"Both." Sherlock said, taking a step next to Natasha. They had to keep Molly save, she was far too close to everyone for comfort. Any second now…

John's breath caught in his throat, attempting to not be afraid, as was standard for the Jedi. Push aside fear, do you duty. Moriarty had nearly killed him last time they'd met, and the padawan was feeling the pressure of the situation more than he wanted to. Natasha and Petrovich, Sherlock and Moriarty, which left more than a dozen Cybermen and three mercenaries for him. Great odds. He activated his lightsaber, the green shooting up into the air.

Natasha's eyes flitted over Moriarty in quick appraisal before returning to Ivan. "Well, look at you, Ivan. Making friends and everything." There was a small twitch in Ivan's jaw and Natasha took note. He was getting angrier. Good. The angrier he was, the more reckless he'd be when he finally attacked. "But then that was always your thing, wasn't it? You befriend your superiors and take your sense of inferiority out on little girls?"

He fixed angry eyes on Natasha, taking a step toward her and away from Molly. Natasha barely smiled. Behind her she'd heard John activating his lightsaber, and beside her she'd felt Sherlock move closer.

There was tension. Molly needed to be kept safe, John needed to be kept safe, and Sherlock and Natasha would make sure of it. Whatever it took. There was no other choice.

So she focused on Sherlock's presence beside her and found her balance, allowing the Force to move through her. "Come on, Ivan. I know you're dying to teach me a lesson." There was a dark smirk and she raised her lightsabers. "Think you can take me?"

That was the tipping point, and oblivious to Moriarty, Sherlock, Molly, John or anything else, Ivan launched himself at her with lightning speed.

Sherlock was trusting Natasha to take care of Ivan, because the fact of the matter was he wasn't important. Lest not solely. In between himself and John, there were far too many Cybermen and Moriarty yet. So, moving as a unit, Sherlock and John stepped forward to protect Molly.

Green and blue blades blocked the Cybermen's flurry of shots, event though Sherlock had a sneaky suspicion they were all set to stun. Moriarty and Petrovich wouldn't have wanted them dead by the hand of a metal man. Still, they couldn't afford to be stunned, they'd never make it out.

Moriarty, on the other hand, had gotten out of the way. Sherlock caught a glimpse of him simply watching them, red lightsaber active, but otherwise completely still. It made Sherlock uneasy, if he let himself feel that way. But he kept his movements basic, blocking fire, stabbing the weak points, disabling weapons, this was all precursor to what was to come.

John had Molly's lightsaber, Mycroft had given it to him even before the cruiser was attacked. Maybe Mycroft had predicted they would have to split up, whatever it was. As soon as Molly was out of the cuffs, she'd be able to fight with them. He stood next to her, stabbing at any of the vulnerable points of the Cybermen he could. "Are the cuffs lightsaber proof too?" He asked quickly, thrusting forward to catch the underarm of a Cyberman, effectively disabling it.

Molly glanced at the cuffs on her wrists and attempted to clear her thoughts long enough to think. "I... I don't know," she told John. "Let me think."

Thinking in the sudden outbreak of movement and noise was difficult for Molly, especially when her thoughts were still so scattered from everything that had happened before. Her attention right then was split between her Master battling it out just a short distance away with a man who'd tormented them both; the Cybermen suddenly shooting at them all from all sides; and Moriarty watching everything with a calm that was setting her teeth on edge. It was Natasha's voice calling out to her that finally snapped her out of the sudden blank paralysis. "Molly!" She'd yelled over the noise. "Focus."

"Right. Focus," Molly muttered, giving the cuffs another look and pursing her lips. She had no trouble admitting that technology wasn't her forte, but Natasha was adamant that she should learn the basics at the very least. Necessary knowledge, she called it, and on more than one occasion Molly had found a book left in her sleeping quarters about the latest advances in security devices or the intricacies of the Republic's newest ranged weapons. Natasha knew Molly would never turn down the opportunity to read a book, whatever the topic may be, so the system worked.

She was never more thankful for that than right then. "SC-401 stun cuffs," she said hurriedly. "Made of durasteel and reinforced by a channelled magnetic field set to tighten around my wrists every time I move and shock me every time they're touched." She looked up at John, still fighting against the Cybermen and raised her voice. "You can break them, but you have to be quick about it."

"That's my girl," Natasha muttered to herself, parrying another one of Ivan's blows by crossing both her lightsabers and pushing back. Purple against red.

John heard the exchange and nodded his head. He just needed time and an opening. He could do quick, as a fighter, he was simply average, Sherlock had told him any number of times. But his aim was impeccable, so in a quick motion of disabling another Cyberman, he pulled Molly's lightsaber out with his other hand. Another turn and it was activated. The light green of hers tapped the durasteel cuffs in just the right place to free her, hopefully with little consequence. John deactivated Molly's saber and then tossed it, knowing she'd catch it, as he jumped forward at another Cyberman.

Sherlock had taken out both of the mercenaries, and several Cybermen. Their armor was lightsaber proof phrik, but there was always a weakness. The trick was finding it. Once Molly was free, he moved away from her other side, using his surroundings to take out the opponents. There were five Cybermen still standing when Moriarty attacked. The man a blur of red light and black clothes, swinging up at Sherlock in a strong blow.

Sherlock's blue blade blocked it and in a flurry of blows, pushed them both away from the padawans and the Cybermen.

Moriarty grinned at him, taking a few steps back towards the open doors of the balcony. "Did you miss me?"

Sherlock huffed out his nose, giving himself a small breather until Moriarty attacked again. "Not as much as I'm going to miss you when you're dead."

"Oh, Sherlock. Don't be so mean." Moriarty said with a bit of a pouty look. "Is your woman dragging you towards the edge as well?"

"Not exactly." Sherlock said, keeping eyes trained on him, always calculating the next steps.

"That's too bad. Would love to see you fall." As he drew the vowel out of the last word, Moriarty's cold eyes settled on him and then he attacked again. Blow after blow, the two men were too well matched, neither giving the other an opening.

Ivan and Natasha, on the other hand, were no longer equally matched. Perhaps once upon a time when he'd been younger and she'd been inexperienced that might've been the case, but the tables had turned with time. Where his movements had slowed with age, hers had only quickened; where he'd kept the same style, she'd varied hers; and where he'd let his own skills grow rusty, she'd improved upon them over and over. In battle, they were not evenly matched... which is why Ivan was relying on something else entirely. Cunning over virtuosity.

He'd wait for an opening, though, and with that in mind he kept on fighting; pushing her into the line of fire, drawing her towards her padawan, forcing her to go on the defense rather than the offense. Natasha didn't miss any of it, but she played him like she played all opponents and waited for an opening of her own.

Molly, on the other hand, was hard at work, fighting off the remaining Cybermen with John at her back. Again, she was grateful to have the Master she did as the movements came easily, if not as fluidly as they did Natasha. The lessons had never been very enjoyable, but she'd learned and that was all that mattered in that moment. A flurry of lasers was blocked by quick-moving light green plasma before she twirled the lightsaber in her hand to slice through a tranquilizer dart headed for John.

Ivan's eyes flashed briefly towards Molly before he lunged at Natasha. She whirled out of the way and sliced through the fabric of his robe, leaving a burnt gash on his arm just beneath. He grunted. "You've improved."

"I know," Natasha said flatly.

Ivan attacked again, this time switching his lightsaber from one arm to the other. "And you've taught your padawan well."

"I know that too," Natasha replied, narrowing her eyes when he moved around her in a half circle, effectively bringing them closer to John, Molly, and inevitably the Cybermen. "You can't have her, Ivan. Not me, but_ definitely_ not her."

"But imagine how much greater she would be with proper discipline, tsarina," he countered with a dark smile. "Just look at yourself."

Natasha's expression hardened, and she joined both her lightsabers at the hilt. She twirled the weapon like a staff and flipped through the air to land behind him. He turned and sliced down hard, forcing her to block the blow with an upwards thrust. "You're nothing to me anymore, Ivan. I outgrew you."

Sherlock was going to get tired, he knew that for certain. Not for a good long while, but this was one match that would just drag on and on if he couldn't gain an advantage. Moriarty was just as quick, just as trained, just as intelligent, just as attuned to the Force, even if it was the dark side of it. They exchanged several more blows as Sherlock tried to push Moriarty away from the group.

Moriarty blocked one of the Sherlock's attacks, their lightsabers fizzing as they met and held contact. Jim smiled briefly, pushing and spinning away from Sherlock to send a burst of electricity at John.

John caught the Force warning from Sherlock a little too late, and suddenly his world was on fire and he shouted in pain. It had been a short burst, thankfully, enough to knock him to the floor but not kill him. He couldn't think, and his body shook with the aftershocks of it as he tried to focus again. There were still Cybermen and he was worthless like this.

Sherlock barely spared a glance at John, simply reassuring him through the Force, and jumped at Moriarty, pushing him back towards the doors again.

Moriarty laughed, meeting every blow with ease. "You've rather showed your hand there, Sherl. But oh how I like to watch you dance."

"And I thought…I was dramatic." Sherlock spat back, spinning for another attack.

"Dramatic, yes. Caring Master, yes. Slower than he thinks, also yes. And that's why you'll fall." Moriarty blocked the attack and dealt another blow.

"John!" Molly disabled the nearest Cyberman with a forceful slice and quickly spun around to check on her friend. He was still on the floor, still trying to focus after the shock. Her lips set into a grim line. "I'll cover you."

Whirling back around, Molly barely managed to block a barrage of lasers directed at them both but kept moving. Her steps were slower, her breathing came in quick pants, and she was tired (having gotten no rest or food during her captivity), but there was nothing else to be done. Sherlock was busy, Natasha was busy, and John was down. They were troubling circumstances, and her growing apprehension bled through her connection with Natasha until a pair of green eyes looked her way.

Ivan's voice was a sneer when he spoke. "Is that concern I see in you, tasrina? Even love, perhaps? I thought I taught you better than that."

"Love is for children," Natasha repeated dutifully, focusing back on the man and pushing him off until he was staggering back. "But you've been wrong before."

Ivan chuckled, regaining his footing and engaging her in a series of quick attacks and parries until all Natasha could hear was the hum of saber against saber, plasma against plasma, and he was struggling to hold her at bay. Another forceful blow had their lighted blades vying against each other for the upper hand, and they both put both their weight and the Force into it, neither one of them backing down.

That was when she saw it. A change in his features, a barely discernible glint in his eye, an almost imperceptible ripple in the Force as Ivan removed one hand from the hilt of his saber and pulled out a long, steely dagger. With his weakened grip and her still forceful push, she inevitably moved forward as the tip of his dagger pierced fabric and skin, embedding itself in her abdomen. He twisted and she gasped, but she recognized her opening when she saw it. Quick fingers detached one side of her double-bladed lightsaber from the other, twirled it in her hand, and quickly sliced off his head.

Ivan's body fell headless to the floor, and Natasha rejoined both hilts before deactivating her saber. Purple plasma disappeared, and a hand gripped the dagger now buried deep inside her. She needed to move, she needed to keep going, but instead she dropped to her knees and pinched her eyes closed.

Sherlock felt her fall, her pain, and the chance of death if they did not win this fight. He touched her with the Force, but didn't bother to turn around to look at her. He had to fix everything he had on Moriarty, keeping him occupied, doing what ever he had to to make sure Moriarty was not a threat anymore. Natasha, John, and Molly were counting on him to finish this, to keep them safe. Petrovich was taken care of, one down, one to go.

"Uh-oh. I hate it when he does that." Moriarty said, waving a dismissive hand at Natasha and obviously not caring about his partner's fate. "Always makes such a mess. But then again, he was a bit old fashioned."

"And the fact that you are not won't save you." Sherlock said, his chest heaving with the exertion. Moriarty didn't give him a break, jumping towards him and swinging one handed with the red lightsaber.

Sherlock had done his deductions about Naomi's injury, and as she was one of the most skilled lightsaber warriors he knew, it had to be something completely new to catch her off guard enough to stab her. The move itself was new for Moriarty, his small lightsaber must have been a recent acquisition. And Sherlock felt it coming, because Naomi had not. As he blocked the overhead hit, he spun away, knocking the small blade out of Moriarty's hands, even as it just barely missed his skin.

"Oh give in, Sherlock, just die already. It takes a lot less effort." Moriarty purred, ignoring the little saber and moving in again with his usual saunter.

"The only way I'm going, is if I'm taking you with me."

"I love it when you talk dirty, Holmes." Moriarty grinned.

"How about you just shut up." Trusting John and Molly to help keep Natasha alive and finished the remaining threats, Sherlock took a breath and then leapt forward, kicking Moriarty back through the double doors out onto the chilly balcony. Red on blue, over and over and over again, unable to gain the advantage, dancing in the blowing snow over the roar of the waterfall.

John had recovered by the the time Natasha had dispatched Ivan, standing up with his green saber ready to fell the remaining metal men. When Natasha dropped, his attention, naturally, drifted, and he sucked in a breath. He had a few of his more basic medical supplies, and he was exhausted already, but he_ had _to save her. There was one more Cyberman and it's attention was now focused on the downed Natasha. Molly was getting tired, and now distracted. They had to finish this now. So in a rasped voice, he said. "Together, quickly."

"Together," Molly confirmed breathlessly, not only because she was tired but because she could feel her Master in pain and it mingled with her own. They'd lost Naomi already, they couldn't lose Natasha too. Not when both of them had been doing their very best to ensure her safety... and that thought strengthened her resolve. Face set and chin tilted up in defiance, Molly raised her lightsaber and went for the Cyberman now too close to her Master.

Natasha could feel it, the same way she could feel Sherlock reaching out to her, and both Molly's and John's concern. She could feel it, but she couldn't do anything about it because she was fading too fast for comfort. She tried to stand, but finding herself too weak even for that, she settled for moving away from the Cyberman instead.

John followed Molly's lead, coming at it from the other direction, the two green lightsabers caught the Cyberman in the middle at vulnerable points, and it keeled over completely harmless. He whirled around, quick checking everyone else to make sure the only other threat was Moriarty. He nearly considered joining Sherlock in the fight…but Natasha wasn't doing well, he had to save her first. Soon he was shoving his lightsaber back on his belt and pulling out his med kit, even as he ran over to Natasha's side, kneeling down next to her. "Natasha? I need you to lay down, keep your hand there pressing down, we'll fix you up. Hang on."

Sherlock fought as hard as he could, using the wider space of the balcony to his advantage. He was entirely was focused on Moriarty, calculating every last move, trying to find counterattacks. There style of fighting had been similar growing up, nearly identical in every way until their twenties where Moriarty had gone rogue. Now, Sherlock had been training with Natasha for so many years and it was evident in his catlike attacks. Moriarty, on the other hand, was using dark power to counter and attack. Both had their advantages

Block after block, slice, spin, twist, nothing came to fruition. Sherlock wasn't going to win this way, the dark energy would overcome him, he was tiring too fast. Time for another plan.

Molly deactivated her laser and clipped it to her belt before she half knelt, half collapsed next to Natasha. "It'll be alright," she assured her quietly, moving Natasha's hands out of the way and pressing down on the bleeding wound. "We're right here."

Natasha pressed her hands on top of Molly's and forced her eyes open. "Cybermen?"

"Gone," Molly assured her quickly.

"And Moriarty?" Natasha pressed in a strained voice. "Sherlock?"

Molly's eyes drifted towards the open double doors leading to the balcony where the sounds of a struggle could still be heard. "Still at it," she told her quietly. "Never mind that, though. Let's concentrate on you first."

Natasha removed one hand from her wound and reached up to touch Molly's cheek. "You? John?"

"We're fine," Molly said, a little exasperated this time. She looked up at John. "Let me know if you need me to do anything."

John worked hard, pressing a gauze into the wound as soon as she moved her hand. "Molly, hold down here." He instructed, and as soon as she did moved his hands away. He looked over at Natasha's face, catching her eye in a reassuring look. "I'm going to Force heal, just hang in there."

John put his hands out over her abdomen, for the third time in a day, he summoned the advanced healing technique he'd studied so hard to learn. He was sure he'd sleep for a week after this, but for now, he'd do what he could. The glowing light coming from his hands knit flesh together, clotted the blood flow, and regenerated the damaged tissue.

After long minutes of intense battle, Moriarty had backed Sherlock up against the far edge, giving Sherlock a good view of the inside, John, Molly, Natasha. His eyes caught his padawan working diligently to save Natasha, he felt his determination, even as Natasha was slowly slipping away. John _would_ save her. Sherlock had faith, as illogical as it was.

The glance over at his team was fleeting, and soon he was back pushing against Moriarty's lightsaber with his own. The rogue Jedi snarled with the force of keep the lightsabers connected, mere inches from Sherlock. "Just give up, Sherlock, it's a lot less effort. I won't even kill your wife and kids, just you will do. One little push and off you pop."

"And you expect me to believe you?" Sherlock shot back, pushing as hard as he could to keep the red light away from his face.

"You disappoint me, Sherlock. This little game of ours…it's getting so boring." Moriarty sing-songed. "You're soooooo predictable. You walked right into this trap, no questions asked. It's not even fun anymore. You're just like them….you're ordinary."

"Not ordinary, I'm you.…prepared to do anything. Prepared to burn." Sherlock said, giving one more glance to his three companions. John busy and hard at work with his gift. Molly's worry frown. Natasha bleeding, but going to live. They were safe. They'd survive.

With a deep breath, his decision made, Sherlock hooked an arm around Moriarty's, and flipped them both over the side of the balcony, plummeting into the mist and fog of the waterfall.

Out of the corner of his eyes, John caught the two black-robed men falling over the side and his hands dropped as he lost his concentration on the nearly healed wound. "SHERLOCK!" He called, scrambling up from the floor and running towards the edge of the balcony. In the long seconds it took to get there, in the sheer panic of his emotions, he felt it. The Master he'd been training with, living with, laughing with, admiring, following, the life Force that he'd been so familiar with…snuffed out. A single moment of utter pain…and then nothing. Sherlock Holmes was dead. John collapsed on his knees by the edge, a sob tearing from his throat, his hands over his face.

Molly scrambled to her feet and sprinted after John, hesitating only a moment before she sunk to the floor next to him and pulled him into her arms. Her voice was tight with emotion when she spoke, but the need to say something pushed her forward. "I'm..." Her voice shook and she tried again. "I'm so sorry, John. I..." Her vision blurred and she sniffled. "I don't know what to say."

Somewhere behind her she could sense Natasha, and their connection was suddenly so overcharged with grief and heartbreak she wasn't sure she could breathe. She loosened her hold on John and chanced a brief glance over her shoulder to find her coming towards them, her usually sharp green eyes vacant and shiny with unshed tears. She slipped past them and leaned over the edge for a long moment where Molly could no longer see her face. She didn't need to.

"He... " Natasha began quietly, blinking furiously to keep herself from crying. "He didn't... he couldn't..." She drew in shaky breaths, closed her eyes and braced herself against the rail to keep herself upright. It worked. Almost. Her thoughts were working a mile a minute as she tried to convince herself that he wasn't dead, that he was fine, that what they'd felt was a trick and nothing more... but she couldn't breathe, and her vision was blurry, and somewhere deep down she knew it was exactly the sort of thing he'd do to keep everyone else safe.

Her shoulders slumped and she leaned forward as a quiet sob escaped her lips. Molly's voice was hesitant when she spoke. "Na... Natasha?"

Natasha straightened with what seemed like a great deal of effort and wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her tunic. "Yeah," she said in a whisper. "Just give me a... moment." Whatever sadness, and heartbreak, and grief she was feeling, she did her best to put it aside...because there were two young padawans behind her that needed her to be strong and not fall apart. They needed her to be Jedi Knight Natasha Romanoff, and not the broken-hearted Natasha quickly coming apart at the seams.

A deep breath and somewhat under control, Natasha turned back around to face them and knelt down in front of John. She reached out to touch his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "John."

John wasn't crying, not outright, not after that one initial sob. His body had sorta just stopped, as the shock of the whole thing set in. His vision was a bit fuzzy, and wobbled a bit when Natasha squeezed his shoulder. He blinked a few times. He couldn't feel the dark energy of James Moriarty any longer either…which means they both didn't make it. That must have been in the intention, he realized. Sherlock had thrown them both other the edge to kill Moriarty. Both of them were dead. It wasn't something he hadn't every really considered in any seriousness. Sherlock had always been there to get them out of trouble.

It wasn't unheard of for a padawan to lose a master. It'd happened to someone just a few months ago. Dean Winchester had come back from a mission alone, his master Bobby Singer having died in a medical facility on an outlying planet. The padawan usually, if they showed promise and someone was willing, was reassigned. It wasn't unusual for it to happen the other way around as well, she didn't talk about it, but naturally there were rumors about what had happened to Naomi's padawan a decade ago. Death was a part of life. Jedi were meant to accept it and move on.

John couldn't move on. His best friend, his teacher, was dead. And what's worse, he hadn't been able to help him, and had been there just to feel him die. John Watson couldn't even save his own master.

After a moment lost in his thoughts, John drew in a breath and met Natasha's green eyes. "I should have…helped…he can't be…" _Dead, he can't be dead._

"John, listen to me," Natasha said gently. "If there had been any other way, Sherlock..." Her voice faltered, but she cleared her throat and tried again. "If... Sherlock thought there was another way, he would've said something. You know that, you know him." Her hand tightened on his shoulder one more time before she removed it to cup his cheek. "But we can talk about that later, right now we need to go."

"You think there's anyone downstairs?" Molly asked quietly. "Because I don't think we could fight our way out if there is."

Natasha glanced at her. "If there were, they either came up and died fighting, or they've scattered. Either way, we're alone here now."

Molly nodded, sneaking a quick peek at John's face and smoothing a gentle hand over his back. "What about the Cybermen?"

Natasha closed her eyes, but it didn't take much to notice the absence of Moriarty's life force. He was gone... just like Sherlock. Her breath hitched again and she opened her eyes with a gasp. "They won't be much of a problem now that Moriarty and Petrovich are gone... but I'll explain it all later, right now we need to go and there's something I need to do before we join the others." She let go of John and rose to her feet, barely noticing when her nearly healed injury pulled painfully. Her lightsaber was still on the floor where she'd left it before and she retrieved it quickly. "Let's go."

John glanced up at Natasha, watching her move, trying to decide if she needed a bit more time on the wound. Not that he'd be able to concentrate enough to heal right now. His emotions were all out of balance.

With a clear of his throat, and a gentle squeeze of Molly's hand, John stood up from the cold stone of the balcony. Holding his hands up, he took another moment to process what happened.

John supposed he should be grateful that Sherlock didn't suffer. Nor had his master seemed afraid. Just a short wave of pain through their Force connection and then nothing….John drew in a shaky breath. His medically wired mind already putting the pieces together from what he'd felt. Sherlock didn't drown, he probably snapped his neck or something with the landing. John wished beyond anything they could at least find the body. Leaving Sherlock to get buried in a snow bank didn't seem appropriate, or fit for the kind of sacrifice that he had just made. How does one recover from this sort of thing? Losing the person most dear to you?

He straightened his posture and opened his eyes. "What do you…need to do?" He asked Natasha, his voice softer than he expected.

Natasha looked John over, gauging his emotional state before she spoke. "I'm going to find him," she told him quietly. "His body, we're not leaving it here." She turned away with her last words, motioning for both John and Molly to follow. "You can stay with Molly in the speeder while I do that, if you don't mind."

"Won't you need help with that?" Molly asked, rising to her feet as well to follow after her. "With your injury and everything?"

"You're about ready to keel over, Molly, and John has done more than enough already," she called over her shoulder, reaching the door to the stairs beyond and pulling it open. She waited for them to join her, but didn't look their way. She was barely holding it together as it was. "I'll do it myself."

John followed, pulling on his cloak and taking Sherlock's with him. He held the black fabric close to his chest. It was cold, and empty, and he wasn't sure he could take that. He didn't want to let it go. He'd walk down, following Natasha like a zombie. He'd sit in the speeder, still holding Sherlock's cloak as if it would bring his master back. He'd wait for Natasha to bring the body back so they could take it home to burn. He'd nearly break down again in his seat, ignoring the concerned and sorrowed look from Molly, burying his face in the black fabric.

Sherlock Holmes was dead.


	13. Brother Dear

**Chapter 13: Brother Dear**

"So, _my love,_ how should we do this?" Naomi asked, stepping through the thin layer of snow towards where the explosion hit. Natasha, Sherlock, and John had just taken off to find Molly and the two rogue Jedi. They could handle it, the threat to the people was a bigger concern at the moment.

There were already heads poking out of windows, whispers, shouts, she heard them all. "I'll do what I can, but I'm not sure I can control more than six or seven at this point. He's got them blocked in some way, makes it difficult to access their minds."

"We need to evacuate civilians, get them somewhere safe. That is out priority," Mycroft replied. "The streets are narrow, and only a few Cybermen can step through them at a time, so we keep whatever fighting we must do there while at the same time ushering people out of the city and towards the mountains." He glanced at her. "How does that sound, _my love?_"

"Sounds like a date." Naomi said with barely a smile. It faded quickly and she took on her professional demeanor, calling out to the few people who were looking down at them, pointed further down the streets in an effort to get them moving and helping each other out. They continued as such until the sounds of marching metal men drew closer and closer. Her hair had already been pulled up in it's usual bun, her lightsaber was in hand, she was feeling much better than before. It was time to protect, save, defend, and stay alive. She reached through the Force, reconnecting with Mycroft as they usually did when they fought together.

Mycroft felt Naomi through the Force and reached out to her as well, lightsaber activating in his hand even as he continued to usher civilians down the narrow street behind them while the Cybermen advanced from the front. Mycroft was more a diplomat than a warrior, but when it was necessary he could wield a lightsaber as well as any Guardian. In part because he sought to excel in any and all aspects of Jedi life, and in part because he'd spent years watching and learning as Naomi expertly wield her weapon against enemy after enemy. In battle, it was inevitable that they would compliment each other perfectly. They knew each other too well and moved together for too long for it to be any other way.

That, and they were both fierce enforcers about what they considered to be their mission. If Sherlock and Natasha could be said to be mostly motivated by the 'game' as his brother liked to call it, Mycroft and Naomi were mostly motivated by duty. A different approach, with equally successful results.

And they'd be just as successful now. "How many civilians left on your side?"

Naomi lowered her voice, after directing two young girls to run the other direction. "They are still coming, but I think as long as they figure out which way to run…they'll be fine." There were dozens of people running about the streets now, hastily clad in various warm clothes as they moved the general direction of the mountains. She was surprised how well they helped each other, in times of crises, even cultures of very private people tended to bond together. She made note of it in her head and continued on, gold plasma lightsaber active but close to her body as people rushed around them. Some were not so lucky, and Naomi felt several lives extinguish as another explosion rocked the street in front of them.

The Cybermen marched, their silver armored bodies finally visible around the turn of the street. They were marching five across, arms raised and firing at the buildings and the people running as fast as they could.

Naomi glanced over at Mycroft, dwelling on him for just a second before the blue shots began firing at them. They were greatly outnumbered, she was not yet at full strength, there were many innocent people in the firing line, the odds were stacked against them. A Jedi served the greater good, putting other people first. And that had been their agreement, they could have each other if they put the Order first. Still, she couldn't help but think she'd let the entire planet burn before she lost him, or the rest of their team. That thinking would lead to the Dark Side, and she was already closer than some. So making up her mind, she readied herself again, purging negative emotion with a practiced breath. They'd either both live, or both die in this coming battle. Either way, they were together.

Connected to Naomi through the Force as he was, Mycroft could sense the range of feelings she was experiencing like they were his own and he glanced at her for a quick second. "Naomi," he spoke as he returned his eyes ahead, signaling for a young couple to move behind him as the Cybermen continued to advance. "We will get through this, because to fail is not an option. Not for us, it never has been." He moved forward to block another flurry of blaster beams as they were fired their way. "We simply need to focus."

Naomi very nearly smiled, even as she spun her blade to a defensive position, dancing out of the way of a family of five. They kept each other in balance, that was how this worked, and she was eternally grateful for it. Another breath to find her calm and focus herself, she stepped up next to him, fending off the same flurry of beams, cream robe billowing behind her. "Focus, I think I can handle that." She paused as she moved forward, deflecting the beams at the buildings and away from the few stragglers in the streets. "And in case I haven't said it recently…I love you." Gathering herself, she took a running leap forward, throwing herself in to take out the Cyberman who'd turned towards a civilian.

"I love you too," Mycroft replied just as Naomi took off at a run. He smiled briefly, but it was short lived as another wave of beams threatened to take out two small children cowering against a wall to his left. Their parents behind him called to them, but frozen in fear as they were, they didn't move. Acting quickly, he spun forward, blocking and redirecting each beam until he reached them both. "Get behind me," he ordered. "We'll walk backwards until you're safe."

The children obeyed and he did as promised, keeping tabs on the little ones until they were safely in their parents arms. They called their 'thanks' as they disappeared into the mass of people moving through the streets to escape the incoming attack, but he barely paid it any mind. He needed to move forward.

Naomi blocked the beams, and then very neatly cut the Cyberman in half. The issue was, that they were still able to cause damage if they were broken apart, so a few more strikes had it's weapon neutralized. She moved on. Holding out a hand at the four others coming her way, she concentrated on their minds, slipping into them and changing their orders. Seconds later they stopped in place and turned around, firing on their own. She smiled. For barely a moment before another ripple of the Force warned her of another incoming explosion. "Back!" She shouted at the people who were hesitating to watch her. The explosion rocked the street, even as Cybermen fell by their own hand and she threw up a Force shield to protect everyone behind her, reaching out to Mycroft for assistance.

With Mycroft's help, the shield held up long enough for the people still running around them in the streets to move out of the line of fire and for the debris to fall and settle on the ground and buildings around them. A few Cybermen were pinned beneath piles of rubble in the process, though not nearly enough to give them a moment's rest. No sooner had the buildings and ground beneath them stopped shaking than they were attacked by another wave of lasers and tranquilizer darts, forcing them once again to block, shield and advance. It was a long battle, with no rest and seemingly insurmountable odds.

In the midst of it, Mycroft couldn't help being grateful that their strategy had worked. As it was, too many lives had been lost in the struggle by his standards, but if they'd faced the army head on and in an open field, the body count, he was sure, would've been greater. So they pushed forward, saving as many people as they could, destroying as many Cybermen as their circumstances would allow. Both him and Naomi fighting side by side one moment, then Mycroft covering her back while she took control of a few of them at the time the next.

Living beings against machines. Bright pulsing life against cold, unyielding death. If Mycroft had been a man prone to bouts of poetic manifestations, he would've mentioned as much to his companion. But he wasn't, so he didn't, choosing instead to concentrate on the task at hand so that they'd at least have a slim chance of survival.

Then suddenly, there was a ripple in the Force so fierce he could almost see it happening. Moriarty. Sherlock. The fall. His movements slowed then, and everything else seemed to slow with it. A blast to his right was muted to a low rumble; screams to his left a barely audible hum.

The sentimental side of him refused to believe it. His little brother, after so many years of fighting, and snarking, and tension, and animosity, dotted with few but meaningful acts of love and kindness, couldn't be dead. His heart would break with the loss, and already he could hear the words inside his head. _Can't handle a broken heart? How very telling._

The logical side of him, however, told him something else entirely. He couldn't sense Sherlock anymore, just as he couldn't sense Moriarty. What was even more telling, when he reached out to John, Natasha, and Molly, he could sense the loss being felt there too. He was gone. The little brother he'd known and loved for a lifetime, the great but flawed man he'd never shown his true brotherly feelings to... was dead.


	14. Cold, Unyielding Death

**Chapter 14: Cold, Unyielding Death**

Sherlock was falling, caught in a roaring wind and a rushing water, he was falling to his death. He had taken an enormous chance. Honestly, he had no idea if he was going to survive or not. He needed to take Moriarty out, and if that's what it took, he'd willingly sacrifice himself to save them.

Midair, he'd deactivated his lightsaber, turning himself over in an attempt to get away from Moriarty's grip. The water was icy and hard, but that didn't compare to the ledge they hit. Sherlock cried out as he landed first, feeling several bones crack with the impact. Moriarty wasn't so lucky, he hit the same ledge as Sherlock and then fell over to the ledge below, the same snap of bones on rock. Thinking fast, Sherlock employed a trick he'd been training himself to do, and completely concealed his energy from the Force. A short burst of pain to make it more real, (which really wasn't that much of a stretch at this point) and then he faked his life Force's death, not even considering the impact it might have on anyone else. Moriarty _had_ to think Sherlock was dead. That was the only way to get an advantage, a surprise attack. _If_ Moriarty survived the fall as well.

Taking shallow breaths with fractured ribs, Sherlock lay on the ledge, grabbing onto the rock to keep himself from being swept off the slippery snow in the wind or water. They weren't under the waterfall exactly, just to the side, only about a third of the way down from the top. But the random spurts of falling water would be enough to knock a weakened Jedi off their feet. Gathering what strength he had left, he pulled himself up and crawled towards drier rock.

Moriarty had survived, he could feel it.

But not for long. Sherlock had to finish this, complete his mission, and the game. The game would change. Moriarty was the final problem. He righted himself with great effort, peering over the ledge to catch a glimpse of Moriarty. The other man was probably just as beat up as Sherlock was, nursing a few broken bones. But, unlike Sherlock, had lost his lightsaber.

Sherlock blinked once and pulled away, putting his tongue in his cheek for a moment of thought. Jedi Code dictated they never attacked an unarmed opponent, but the Cybermen wreaking havoc on the city and the fact that Moriarty had been so close to killing both Molly and Naomi, not to mention the years of history and hell they'd been through, made up his mind. Sherlock was going to get rid of him, lightsaber or not. Code be damned.

A deep breath and he pulled out his saber again, holding it in his unbroken hand, but did not activate it. There was still the chance he miscalculated and would die. But he went into this willingly, right? He fixed his thoughts on his padawan, his friend and partner, and even his brother, and then jumped off the ledge. The blue plasma shot out of the hilt in mid-air. There wasn't much ceremony, Moriarty hadn't even felt Sherlock coming. Sherlock might have even complained that it was anti-climatic, if he hadn't been ready for it all to be over. One second he was flying through the air, the next Sherlock stabbed James Moriarty through the back.

Sherlock landed hard, balancing himself on the rock as he pushed the dead body of his rival over the cliff. He swayed a bit, blinking back the unconsciousness that wanted to put his broken body into a healing sleep. Listening to his transport for once, he collapsed in the snow and closed his eyes, his broken arm resting over his broken ribs. He'd figure the next part of the plan out in a bit.

Sherlock was cold. Colder than he'd been in a long time. But his energy was spent, his transport was broken, his connection to the Force distant. He couldn't even figure out how to turn his life Force back on, and he must have forgotten about it in between the killing the defenseless Moriarty and the fall itself. Maybe a bit of much needed sleep would help, then he'd tackle the treacherous climb down the mountain. And, illogically, Sherlock slipped away to unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>Natasha led John and Molly out of the structure before returning for her own cloak. She stopped for one last look over the rail as she fastened it around her neck and drew in a deep breath. From the balcony it was a steep climb, too steep to make in the state she was in and too steep to make with a body in tow. She'd simply have to find another way.<p>

Turning on the spot, she tore her eyes away from the waterfall and led both padawans down to the landspeeder. She didn't speak on the way down, except for a few whispered instructions to Molly regarding John. She wasn't good with comfort the way Molly was (her padawan always had been kinder and gentler than she ever would be) but she understood loss and the need for space. Molly nodded her understanding and barely spared her Master a look before climbing into the speeder with John. She waved her off and Natasha took her cue, climbing up and then down into the waterfall where she jumped down onto one ledge and then another until she reached the motionless and snow-covered body of one Sherlock Holmes.

Her strength left her then and she braced herself against cold, jagged rock when she swayed on the spot. It took all her resolve to make her way over, one hand pressed to her abdomen and another pressed to her mouth as she did her best to keep herself together when everything inside of her was more than ready to fall apart. She was aware that somewhere out there, Mycroft and Naomi could likely use her help; that John and Molly needed her to be as quick as possible; that there was still work to be done. Right then those things didn't matter, and she sunk next to Sherlock's body with a quiet gasp. Tentatively she reached out and cupped his cold face, same way she'd done three years before at Appledoria when he'd nearly died on her. She couldn't help thinking they'd been lucky then, and she cursed herself for walking away and staying away for so long. She'd accomplished nothing with it except hurt both herself and him, and now she'd never get to make things right. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, eyes pinched closed and teeth biting hard on her lower lip to keep it from shaking. He was too cold, and too still, and too dead, and in spite of her efforts her lashes were suddenly wet with tears while something between a sob and a whimper escaped her lips. "Sherlock..."

Sherlock had fallen asleep, drifting into the warmth of some dream. Illogical really, he would have slept and not woken up, dying for real this time. The dream had been lovely, a mission relived, Natasha's laugh, John's victorious grin, Molly's head in a book, Mycroft and Naomi giving each other a look. It would have been a nice way to go. Quiet. Peaceful. Unlike many other Jedi.

But, Natasha's quiet sob drew him out of the sleep, and his eyes fluttered open. He didn't stir otherwise, trying to figure out what was going on as blurred vision brought nothing into focus. His limbs were numb, skin cold, lips blue, and he'd stopped shivering. Snow, Moriarty, waterfall, right. All that. And Natasha was crying. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen her do that, outside of a major injury. It was confusing. Oh, right, he was supposed to be dead.

Sherlock tried to move his head, getting enough control of his arm to move to touch her, cold fingers on warm skin. His voice was hoarse, raspy, but he managed a whisper. "Nat?"

Natasha's eyes flew open and she pulled away just enough to meet a very much_ alive_ pair of intelligent blue eyes. Her own teary green ones widened in surprise for a brief second before she leaned in kissed him full on the lips. They were just as she remembered them, familiar in taste and texture but not temperature. Too cold, she concluded, and she pulled back a sharp intake of breath, quick but shaky hands removing her cloak and throwing it over him. "You're alive," she breathed, hands moving over any inch of him she could reach in an unnecessary attempt to warm him up. There were other ways, but evidently she wasn't thinking as clearly as she should've been right then. "I can't believe you're alive, I didn't... I didn't..." Her vision blurred and once again she bit her bottom lip into submission. Her eyes met his, and her hands never stopped moving as she leaned in for another kiss, this one a little gentler than the first. "We need to get you down to the speeder," she half whispered a moment later when she'd pulled away to press her forehead against his. "It's too cold up here, and you're hurt, and I can't help you…"

Sherlock was in no position to protest any of what she was doing, and very willingly accepted it. She was warm, and soft, and comfortable. And he was nearly tempted to ask her to just climb on top of him so he could hold her, broken ribs and all. Later. He'd do that later, he decided. She'd said some things in between the kissing, so he tried to focus on that instead. "Mm cold. Just a bit…" He croaked, suddenly feeling very guilty for her current state. His icy fingers slipped into the warmth under her robes by her collar, trying to make sure she wasn't just another dream. "I'm sorry…it was the only way…Moriarty had…to be stopped."

"I know," Natasha assured him quickly, not bothered one bit by his cold hands on her skin. If anything she wanted more, but she knew right then wasn't the proper time. Later, she promised herself. "I know," she repeated. "You did the right thing, and I would've done the same. I'm just..." She drew in an unsteady breath. "I'm just happy you're alive. More than happy, I..." The words never made it past her lips, and she made a second promise that she'd address it later. Instead, she sniffled one last time and pulled back, pressing yet another kiss to his lips, and another to the tip of his nose. "But you won't be alive for long if we stay here, so we need to get moving, okay?"

"Might….I might need help." Sherlock said, groaning a bit as he tried to move again. "I think I'm broken. Ribs definitely." He took his hand out from her shirt and caught her by the neck, pulling her in for a kiss he initiated. He liked it. It was warm. And it was her. After a long moment, he let her go. "I wasn't expecting…to survive."

Natasha smiled briefly out of sheer relief that he had and reached up to grab Sherlock's collar in a tight grip. "But you did," she said. "You did, you survived, and now we're going to get you out of here so we can finish this once and for all and I can have you all to myself, even if it's just for a little while." She pulled back and locked eyes with him, removing both hands from his collar and slipping them beneath the fabric to touch cold skin beneath. "Need help sitting up?"

"More than likely." Sherlock said, his body shivering unconsciously at her touch. Oh, shivering was good, it'd warm him up faster. "What are we going to be doing when you've got me all to yourself?"

"Once we get you all healed up, I can think of a few things," Natasha replied, another brief smile curving her lips as she held his gaze. "First things first, though," she said after a moment, having noted the shiver and slipped her hands further beneath his clothes to cover more skin. Inevitably it brought their faces closer together, but naturally she didn't mind. "Tell me if this is working," she murmured. "Otherwise I might just have to cuddle up with you beneath the cloak and lose the tunics."

"Later. For now, kiss me again." Sherlock said plainly, keeping his focus on her bright green eyes. He was beyond grateful she was here, but wasn't sure stripping down on the mountainside was a good option at the moment. Besides, they had other ways. And he likely missed the joke. "Warm up…with the Force….I'm not strong enough to do it myself…then we can go."

"Absolutely," Natasha replied with a mischievous smile that signaled she'd been joking, and a second later she was pressing her too warm lips against his too cold ones while simultaneously connecting with him through the Force to bolster his own healing ability. The contact was soft at first but same as it had been three years before, it was hard to hold back. Always she wanted more. Always she wanted him. _All_ of him... but later, she told herself again, deepening the kiss as she amplified their connection.

Accelerating another's healing was a technique she was familiar with, but had never used before. Not with him, or with anyone. There'd never been any need. Through the Force she could connect with him and give him strength to heal where he had little or none. The closer they were, both physically and relationship-wise, the easier it made the entire process. With them, naturally, it came easy as breathing... and she loved every minute of it. It was only a hazy moment later when the need for air prompted her to break the kiss that she spoke. Her words were a low whisper between shallow breaths against his lips. "More?"

"More." Sherlock repeated, slipping his frozen hand into her hair and pulling her down again. Laying on his back in the snow and on the rock of this mountain, the roar of the waterfall never having left his ears, he couldn't help his need for her. Both to live, and to be content.

The experience was invigorating, nearly literally, as his body warmed through the Force connection they shared. The Force was everywhere around them, flowing between them in ways he wasn't even sure could happen, ribbons of energy he could nearly see. He could get addicted to this. Not just this rush of power between them, but the intimacy of it. He drew energy from her, the healing grace of the Force working in his body already. It wasn't enough to completely heal the broken bones, but it'd get him moving again. The boost was enough to fuel the lack of a life Force again, and it gradually began to grow again. Eventually he broke away, shallow breaths coming quickly through sore ribs. "Hmm…we'll do that again later." He said softly. "Help me up."

"Absolutely," Natasha panted, effectively answering both statements before sealing the promise with another soft, but quick kiss. Evidently it was hard to stop. "Put your arm around me," she ordered, slipping one of her own arms beneath him and securing it around his waist in such a way that she wouldn't make his already sore ribs any worse. From there, she carefully helped him to his feet and kept her hold until he was steady. "We'll go slow climbing down, okay? You survived one fall, let's not test that theory twice in one day."

"Agreed." Sherlock said, grimacing a bit as he moved his sore body. Now upright, and somewhat warmer, he took inventory of his condition. Ribs broken, but not puncturing a lung, likely a bone crack or two in his right arm and both his legs, concussion, multiple abrasions. This wasn't going to be a pleasant trip down the mountain. Relying on the Force to keep his strength, and Natasha to keep his balance, they proceeded down a rough path. Working hard to keep themselves moving, they didn't speak much, just enough to speak instructions or encouragement. He needed his entire focus on staying alive.

Sherlock hurt, both the fall and the sheer energy it had taken to fake his life Force's death combining to give him the weary feeling he was now experiencing. Several points along their trip he'd been convinced he wasn't going to make it. But a quiet assurance from his partner and they continued on. He'd sleep, and then heal, and then sleep some more. And then try more of that kissing thing he liked to do with her. Code be damned.

If Natasha had reacted like this, one could only imagine how his padawan had handled his death. They'd talked about it before. Mycroft would take over John's training and they'd move on. Right, that's how it always went. The Jedi moved on, purging emotion and sacrificing for the greater good. But still, John had quite a bit of 'heart' as they say. There was no way his young padawan was even close to 'moving on'. Sherlock didn't have the strength, otherwise he would have pushed through the Force to reassure John. Still, it was only a matter of time before he saw him again.

* * *

><p>John had spent an indeterminate amount of time curled up in the landspeeder with Molly. She'd wrapped her arms around him and he'd thrown Sherlock's cloak over them both. He just sat there. Not thinking. Or trying not too. He was grateful for Molly, her comforting presence more than he could have asked for considering. They hadn't talked, there wasn't much to say. He was tired, more tired that he'd ever been probably. He didn't know what to do, or how to feel, still completely in shock. He'd shut everything out, turning his thoughts inward and just holding on to the black cloak that still smelled like Sherlock. He couldn't even bear to think about Natasha's inevitable return with Sherlock's body. A body meant it really happened, that Sherlock was really cold and dead. He sniffed again, trying to control the tears that wanted to fall.<p>

By the time they reached the end of the narrow path and struggled through what little distance remained until they were on snowy but even ground, Natasha was beyond exhausted but overwhelmingly grateful. Not just for his life, but for the opportunity to set things right with him. She wouldn't let that chance go to waste, Jedi Code and teachings aside. She loved him, truly and deeply and in ways she'd never thought herself capable of. Three years before, when she'd walked away from him at Appledore she'd been convinced those feelings would put them both in danger, or what was worse, lead them down a dark path. She couldn't have been more wrong. What she felt for Sherlock didn't weaken, but strengthen; it didn't lead her towards the dark, but pulled her towards the light; it didn't burn, but consume. In short, it made her better... and it had taken her a painfully long amount of time to realize it. She wouldn't let that happen again.

Later, when they'd done their job and scrubbed the dust and grime of battle off their skin; later, when he'd healed, and they'd rested; later, when the broken feelings he'd left behind with John and Mycroft were mended; later... she'd put herself in his hands like she'd done with no one else and let him decide. Such vulnerability was uncommon for her, but with him she didn't mind. Never with him.

The landspeeder came into view a short while later, and she tightened her grip on Sherlock just a little as they readied themselves to close the remaining distance. Through the Force she reached out to Molly, and her padawan's head whipped around to look at them. Brilliant brown eyes widened and she gently nudged John's shoulder. "John..."

"Hmm?" John asked quietly, opening his eyes as Molly nudged him. Coming out of his head, the first thing he felt was Natasha and there was a painful tightening in his chest. But when he turned his eyes towards her, she wasn't carrying a body, or even coming back empty handed. Walking there, leaning quite heavily on her, was one, _alive_ and moving, Sherlock Holmes. That's when he felt him again, the quiet Force connection that had been severed an hour before.

John jumped out of the speeder, nearly tangling himself in the black cloak, and despite his exhaustion, went running towards Sherlock and Natasha. Sherlock would have called it illogical, but John had to make sure he wasn't just seeing things. By the time he was close enough, he slowed down, staring at Sherlock in complete shock. "Sh…" His fists clenched as he searched Natasha's and Sherlock's faces for answers. "Sherlock…you're…"

"John." Sherlock said simply, fixing clear blue eyes on his padawan's shocked face. There was a small exhausted smile shared, and that's all the warning he got before John closed the remaining distance and wrapped him in a hug. Sherlock stifled a moan as sore ribs protested, but moved his free and somewhat broken hand to touch John's back. "I'm sorry, it appears I owe you an…apology."

John had obviously noticed that Sherlock's ribs were broken, so he pulled away quickly, his relief turning into a mix of more emotions than he knew what to do with. "Sherlock…" a huff out his nose, "you were…dead….but you're not." He shook his head before Sherlock could come up with a snarky response about John's intelligence. "Let me help." He said to Natasha, slipping under Sherlock's arm to support him on the other side. "Back to the speeder."


	15. Battlefield Mourning

**Chapter 15: Battlefield Mourning**

Naomi didn't notice at first, too consumed in the battle and focusing on keeping herself moving in her exhausted state. Initially, it was soft, like a whisper in her ear and that's probably what Mycroft had felt. The next pulse was an intense wave of grief from her companion. A strong tidal wave of emotion she rarely felt him acknowledge about the little brother who'd pressed too many buttons. Her heart ached for him, sharing the pain that radiated over their bond.

But there was still work to be done, and Cybermen still attacking. Moriarty was dead, she felt that too. A dark energy gone, the Cybermen's minds free from the dark Force control she couldn't overcome. Sherlock had sacrificed himself to ensure Moriarty's death. It was admirable, but she wasn't sure the effects would be just as horrible as failing the mission, at least with her companions. Another blast rocked the street, but she deactivated her lightsaber and outstretched her hands. The minds were more open to suggestion now, and she took control of the rest of them on the street and turned them on each other. A few minutes and every single one was dead.

Naomi turned sorrowed blue eyes towards Mycroft and reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly as she stepped closer to him. "Darling?"

Mycroft barely felt Naomi's hand slip into his, but he closed his fingers around it anyway. "He's gone," he rasped out, still reeling from the onslaught of emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel. "He's... I..." He drew in a ragged breath and retreated until his back hit a slowly cracking wall and he closed his eyes. Jedi were taught to accept death as part of their lifecycle, as the inevitable return to the Force it was. They were taught to do this, but Mycroft found the task exceedingly hard in practice where his brother was concerned. Attachment, they would've called it; another manifestation of greed. Perhaps it was, but right then he didn't care. He wasn't ready to lose his brother, there was still too much to fix, too much to say, too much to do. He slid down to the ground and deactivated his lightsaber. "I need a moment."

The threat was minimal at the moment. Every Cyberman on this street was dead or deactivated, the civilians all escaped. There were other points of attack on the city, she was sure, she could feel it. But this seemed more important. Naomi let go of his hand, moving to sit next to him and pull him into her arms. She'd already been close to death, and now the only other person Mycroft cared about was dead, and her heart broke for him. "I'm here, love." She said quietly, resting her forehead on his temple and not letting him go, sharing the pain between them.

Mycroft was breaking, and when he felt Naomi's arms go around him he reached out to her and pulled her against his chest with crushing force. It was only then that he allowed himself to cry. For the brother he'd known, cared for and defended for so long, more often than not without him knowing; for the man he'd counted on multiple times, not just because of his considerable skill but because of his unwavering dedication, despite all his flaws; for the one other being in the entire galaxy aside from Naomi he'd give absolutely anything to keep safe and out of harms way.

He couldn't help thinking there was so much he should've said, so many things they'd never spoken for various reasons, and now never would. Never had their near constant antagonism seemed sillier and unimportant. His hold on Naomi tightened, face buried in her hair and fingers curled into her cream robes as he purged all those emotions through tears. A temporary purge, at best, but a necessary one if he was going to move forward. Not for himself, but for the people who still needed him. Naomi, Molly, Natasha, and perhaps John especially. Someone would need to take over his training, and despite knowing his brother likely wouldn't appreciate it, he wouldn't allow anyone else to care for the padawan. He'd do so himself.

A while later, he wasn't sure how long exactly, he loosened his grip on Naomi and pulled back. "I'm sorry," he said in a raspy voice. "I can... I can help now, I believe."

"Shh, don't be sorry." Naomi said, smoothing a gentle hand over his head and moving to hold his neck. She kept her eyes fixed on him, compassionate and soft, feeling exactly how he felt. Her own heart broke for him. For Sherlock. For John. And Natasha and Molly. This caring, it was inevitable with certain people. Especially a brother. And she couldn't help but feel the familiarity of Castiel's loss in this situation. It never got easier, and Mycroft wouldn't ever be the same. But she was still his, just as he was hers. They'd get through this together.

Leaning in, she pressed a gentle kiss on his lips, not at all concerned with anyone who'd possibly be watching. It was brief and she pulled away to look at him again, cupping his face and brushing tears away with her thumbs. "What do you need?"

Mycroft sniffled and closed his eyes, reaching up with his hands to cover hers. "Just you," he said quietly, using her presence to center himself before he drew in a deep breath and reopened his eyes. "Just you to help me do what needs doing, I'm... I'm having a hard time and I can scarcely think." He curled his fingers around her hands and pulled them to his lips. "Help me focus, get me moving." He kissed her hands. "Please."

"The let's focus." Naomi said, drawing strength where he had none. She held him there for a moment, in the middle of a war zone, metal bodies of Cybermen littering the street. After another kiss, she moved away, helping him to his feet. "There is another point where the Cybermen have entered the city. We have to stop them, I can control them, I just have to be closer than where we are now." She reached up to cup his cheek, giving him a tender look, despite the instructions. "Think you can steal me a landspeeder, my love?"

"Anything for you," Mycroft confirmed, fully relying on her for strength while his own still lay shattered. He breathed in deep, kissing her one more time before meeting her eyes and steeling himself for what lay ahead. "Give me a moment, I won't be long."

With that, he disappeared through the streets, searching for a landspeeder between the piles of rubble and fractured buildings left in the wake of the Cybermen's attack. He found one eventually, a little broken and a little dusty, but functional. Hopping inside, he managed to bring it to life and drove it over. "Will this one do?"

"I don't think we should take a holiday in it, but I think it will do." Naomi said, settling herself in the passenger seat carefully. She placed a comforting hand on his leg, fixing soft blue eyes on him. "I love you."

Mycroft placed a hand on top of Naomi's, meeting her eyes for a second. "I love you too," he replied, speeding forward to weave through the streets a second later. It didn't take long to find the second point of attack, if for no other reason than the noise caused by blasts and screams as they neared the place. He squeezed Naomi's hand. "How close do you need to be?"

"Anywhere along here, I just want to see what's going on." Naomi said, her eyes scanning the tops of the buildings. "Maybe higher ground…to be out of the line of fire."

"Higher ground it is," Mycroft replied, catching glimpses between buildings of the action beyond as they drove past. Once he'd located an out of the way, but still strategically placed building, he brought them up to the roof. "We can't stay here for long," he told her as he watched the advancing Cybermen. "But it'll do for a little bit."

Naomi nodded her answer. Once they were situated up on top, she took in the scene below. Cybermen marching, firing on running civilians. The body count wasn't terribly high. She was sure nearly half of them were simply stunned. Waiting to be 'upgraded', more than likely. She slipped her hand into Mycroft's at the edge of the building, and outstretched her other one. This had to be dealt with, then and only then could they mourn properly. She closed her eyes, summoning the Force from inside and around her. Her eyes shot open, glowing with white light as she started taking control of the army.

Mycroft gripped Naomi's hand tightly, watching as she slowly made her way into the minds of the Cybermen and took control. It was an impressive ability, and as always quite something to behold. His attention, however, was only briefly pulled away from his brother. The pain was still there, the raw ache brought on by his loss. They hadn't received a call from any of their three remaining companions yet, but he'd kept tabs on them through the Force if only to make sure they were still there. Likely retrieving the body, he reasoned, and it made his chest tighten with a new wave of pain. He couldn't think of that now, he realized, not with Naomi needing to concentrate on the task at hand. So instead cleared his thoughts and waited patiently beside her.

The process was slow, considering all the Cybermen there. Close to a hundred. But Naomi wormed her way in, until she was either shutting them down remotely, or causing them to turn on themselves. But eventually, the entire unit would be taken care of. Mycroft hadn't distracted her. She was very familiar with the feeling of loss and pain, it simply mingled with her own as she worked. Long minutes went by, until the last of the Cybermen fell. With a quiet sigh, she let go, lowering her hand and sagging her shoulders in a moment of exhaustion. A deep breath and she turned in to hug him, slipping her arms around his waist and under his cloak. No words were really necessary, or needed at this point. She would be there for him, whatever happened.

Mycroft wrapped Naomi in his arms and closed his eyes, holding her close as he concentrated on their three remaining companions rather than the fourth he'd lost that day. He could still faintly feel the loss with Molly and John, but when he reached out to Natasha his brow furrowed and his eyes opened once again. It could be nothing, his connection to her wasn't strong as they weren't attuned to each other at all, but there was something there. His arms tightened around Naomi. "We need to find the others."

Her head resting comfortably on his shoulder, Naomi's thoughts drifted to the suffering people here. But, emergency measures were already being employed. They would take care of themselves. The Jedi had a few more orders of business to attend to, one was the factory. A series of explosions would level the facility, effectively putting off any use of the Cybermen creating assembly lines. Second was ensuring the population would be on their way to recovery, simple enough. Third was acquire a transport and get everyone home. She reached out for the other three again, opening her eyes as she felt the unexpected in Natasha's mind. She couldn't understand it yet. "I think I agree. Let's go now." She squeezed him gently and then let go, taking his hand to lead them back to the speeder.

"I sensed it too," Mycroft replied, gripping her hand a little tighter and falling in step with her. "I'm not entirely sure what it means, but then Natasha always has been a little... odd, I suppose." He wasn't entirely sure why - instinct, perhaps - but there was a small flutter of hope inside his chest. He diligently pushed it down, unwilling to give it a chance to grow. "We'll regroup with the others to finish this as quickly as possible," he said as they reached the landspeeder and climbed inside. "The rest..." He trailed off momentarily. "The rest we'll deal with later."

"We'll deal with it together. Just as we always have." Naomi said, glancing over at him once she was seated, and trying to understand the new feelings that were pulsing through the bonds she had with the others. Like Mycroft, she had a flutter of hope, but instead of pushing it down, she smiled slightly and let it grow.


	16. Sleep

**Chapter 16: Sleep**

Molly scrambled to get out of the speeder, but stopped after just a few steps in their direction. Inevitably, a wide smile spread across her face when she noticed the turn of events.

"He's alive!" She whispered with a bit of awe, and as quickly as she'd left it, she returned to the speeder to move a few things around. First she pushed Natasha's satchel to the floor so Sherlock sit in the passenger seat she'd occupied on the drive over. Then she retrieved Sherlock's cloak, the one John had been holding to his chest like a lifeline, and straightened it with one sharp shake before she once again climbed out of the speeder to wait. The amount of relief on her face was evident when the other three neared her. "Sherlock's cloak," she announced when they were close enough and Natasha met her eyes. "John retrieved it, and he must be cold..."

"Thank you, Molly," Natasha replied with a nod and a smile. "Hold onto it until we get him settled in. John," she tilted her head to look at the padawan. "Let's put him in the front passenger seat. I'm driving back."

Molly nodded and walked around the speeder to wait by the passenger's side, in case they needed her assistance, and that was the scene that met Mycroft's eyes when he neared the mountain ridge he and Naomi had left before to help the towns citizens. He'd been quiet on the drive over, only reaching out to take Naomi's hand in his as they sped between buildings first, and then snowy terrain. A quick look told him everything he needed to know, and immediately he found himself reaching out to sense Sherlock and reassure himself with his life Force. He was alive. Hurt and evidently broken, but alive. The breath he expelled a moment later was one of complete and utter relief and he squeezed Naomi's hand. "I'm not simply seeing things, am I?"

"No, I'm quite sure you're not." Naomi said, holding his hand tightly, she gave him a small smile. A relief. For the entire team, truly. Right then, she knew what he'd done, and while clever, she wished he'd shared that information with them ahead a time. It would have made things much easier, and far less painful. A distraction on the battle field may have been fatal. They were going to have a conversation about that.

Together, Natasha and John got Sherlock down in the passenger seat, John carefully laying the cloak over his Master's shivering body. John wasn't even sure how to process it all. Now that they were close, he could feel Sherlock's life Force, just as easily as he could see him. He both wanted to hug him and punch him for faking something like that.

Sherlock didn't speak much, now that he was finally sitting again, the exhaustion washed over him like an avalanche. He let out a shallow breath and just closed his eyes, relaxing under the cloak and against the seat they'd put him in. This caused a response from John, who put two fingers on his throat to make sure he was still alive. John looked over at Natasha. "I think I can start his healing, but not here. Somewhere safe and warm."

"We'll find a place in the city," Natasha assured John while gesturing with her hand for him and Molly to climb into the landspeeder. She walked around and settled into the driver's seat. "Areas still intact will probably be crowded; people who've lost their homes won't have any other place to stay," she thought out loud. "Tight quarters," she concluded. "But we'll find a room with a bed where you can work. I'll-"

"Natasha," Molly cut her off, turning in her seat to point out Mycroft and Naomi's incoming speeder. "Should we wait for him?"

Natasha glanced at the speeder but shook her head. "No, we're not waiting." She pulled out her comm link as she pulled away from the mountain they'd docked next to. "Here," she handed the comm link to Molly. "Call Naomi."

"Naomi..." Molly repeated, absently taking the item in her hand and turning wide eyes back to the speeder. "She's alive?"

"Alive," Natasha confirmed with a bit of a smile. "Now call her and explain the situation."

Molly obeyed, still a little shocked as she fumbled with the comm link and proceeded to place the call.

The comm link beeped in Mycroft's pocket, but Naomi reached over to take it. She answered it, jumping right to business. "The Cybermen that were in the city are taken care of. Do we have a rendezvous point or should we just follow you?"

Molly couldn't help smiling in relief at the sound of Naomi's voice, but quickly moved on to business. She'd talk to her later. "Naomi, it's Molly," she told her first as Natasha drove them towards the city. "And no, we don't have a rendezvous point just yet, but we're going to find a place where we can settle in and John can get to work on Sherlock." She paused. "He's very badly hurt, I think."

Their landspeeder zoomed past Mycroft and Naomi's stolen one, and he maneuvered to follow. "We still have to take care of the manufacturing plant and the people," Mycroft told Naomi. "We could do that now while they get settled in, or follow them and get some rest before we take off again." He glanced at her. "What do you think?"

Naomi caught the glance and then activated the link again. "Mycroft and I are going to take out the manufacturing plant first, in case the next wave of Cybermen has been activated. Shouldn't take too long. Please let us know where you end up, and we'll meet you there as soon as possible."

"Alright," Molly confirmed. "Will do." Comm link deactivated and stowed away in a pocket of her utility belt, Molly leaned back in her seat and pulled her cloak tight around her body. Her thoughts turned inward as her eyes drifted to the passing scenery, barren and white as it was.

The drive back to the city was quiet and uneventful, and it was only when they'd reached the buildings on the very edge that Natasha slowed their speed. People lined the streets and rushed in and out of buildings, tending to wounded and consoling the grieving. It was about as noisy and cramped as she'd predicted, but they'd make do.

Eventually, when the streets became narrower they were forced to dock and abandon their speeder, Natasha went on her own to scout the nearby buildings until she came upon one with suitable accommodations. A little talking and a little bargaining later, she walked back to the speeder with their keys. "I found the place, and it's close by," she announced. "John," she called. "Help me with Sherlock."

"Got it." John was out and over the side of the speeder very quickly. Sherlock was much taller than any one of them here, but if Natasha could carry him down a mountain, they could get him inside. He talked Sherlock through the move, and then helped him stand, taking as much of his master's weight as he could with Natasha's help. Sherlock's clothes were wet, his body still shivering in an attempt to warm up. They progressed slowly through the various people around, Sherlock wasn't the only one injured today, so no one really gave them a second look.

Finally, they reached the room in question, John paid very little attention to the whole of it, simply directing the way right to the bed closest to the door. Sherlock went down with a mute sound, and closed his eyes again once he was down, murmuring a 'thank you'.

"We should get his wet clothes off, wrap him in blankets." John said, putting his hand on Sherlock's forehead to gauge the temperature. "Molly, go see if you can find me another blanket or two. Natasha, I need your help with him." John was in his healer mode, rank didn't matter and orders flew when there was work to do.

Natasha stood next to the bed while she shrugged off her cloak, worried eyes flitting over Sherlock before she tossed the black garment aside. It landed in the corner in a dark pile, and scooted in next to Sherlock to help remove his wet clothes. Quick fingers worked off Sherlock's belt before starting on the layers underneath, trying to jostle him as little as possible. There was no reason for modesty for Natasha then, especially not when her best friend's wellbeing was concerned.

A moment later, Molly came back into the room with two extra blankets in tow. "This is all I could find," she announced once she'd closed the door. "There's a lot of people out there, so supplies are a little scarce." She set them down on the mattress at the foot of the bed and moved to shrug off her own cloak. "Will they do?"

Natasha glanced at the pile, but returned her eyes to Sherlock's face. "I need you to sit up a little so I can the rest of these off," she told him, tugging once at his tunics. "Think you can manage?"

"Perfect." John said to Molly, pulling out his medkit to put on the table. "Do you mind trying to find us some food and water too?" He asked. Not if there wasn't any to spare, but they might be here a while. Might as well get comfortable. The lodging they were in wasn't terribly but, but split into two parts, each with beds and a small table, the refresher was in the back. They could stay here for the time being.

"I think so." Sherlock said, opening his eyes again. He'd just fell down a mountain, he could manage to sit up. Hopefully. Using his good arm, he pushed himself to a sitting position, and with Natasha's help, steadied himself so they could get his tunic off.

Natasha watched Molly disappear out the door with a confirmatory nod and a wave before returning her focus to the task at hand. Sherlock's clothes dropped to the floor with a wet splat when she discarded them next to the bed, and gently pushed him back until he was lying down. She'd deal with his clothes later. "John, need me to help or stay out of the way?"

"Whatever you want." John said, taking off his boots and sitting next to Sherlock on the bed, his attention already on his master, who'd closed his eyes again. John pulled out a bit of morphine and depressed the plunger into Sherlock's vein. He reached for a blanket next. "I'm going to set his broken wrist and then try healing as much as I can. I don't need your help, but you won't be in the way if you stay."

Natasha watched John work for a moment, but eventually returned her eyes to Sherlock's face. There was a moment of contemplation, but eventually she leaned over and tucked the blanket securely around him. Eventually, she knew, Sherlock and John would need time to themselves. To discuss what happened, mend fences. It was only natural. Right then, however, Sherlock wasn't going to be doing much of that. He could barely keep his eyes open... and truthfully, she was reluctant to leave his side. "I'm staying," she announced quietly, moving until she was sitting closer to his head with her back resting against the headboard. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Okay." John said simply, moving his attention to Sherlock's broken wrist. The morphine had kicked in, and he was nearly asleep, but it still was going to be painful. John situated himself, just as he was taught and then gave a quick pull to set the bones. Sherlock let out a little pained noise and shifted on the bed, but didn't move otherwise, which John was grateful for.

Inhaling deeply, John fixed his hands over Sherlock's chest and closed his eyes, summoning the Force energy to heal his master. He was beyond exhausted at this point, but he had to do what he could. The soft blue light streamed under his hands and over Sherlock's blanket covered body.

It was a long while later when Molly arrived, looking a little weary but happy that she'd been successful. "I managed to find enough for all of us," she told Natasha after a brief glance John's way. "I'll just set it down on the table."

"Eat first," Natasha said quickly. "Then get some rest. I'll wake you up if anything happens."

Molly nodded silently, pausing briefly beside the bed before heading off to follow instructions. Food eaten, she found herself a bed and unceremoniously collapsed on top of the covers, quickly drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

Eventually, John couldn't hold it any longer and he dropped his hands, gasping as his eyes opened. Sherlock was asleep, or simply unconscious. And John was about ready to do that himself. It'd been a long couple days. "I think…I think I'm done." He said, looking over at Natasha again with heavy eyes. "And I'm going to sleep too."

Natasha looked John over with a faint smile. He'd done so much over the course of their mission, and he'd done it so well. She'd tell him eventually. Right then, she was sure he was ready to collapse from exhaustion. "Go," she said quietly. "Sleep, eat, do whatever you need to do. If he wakes up, I'll take care of him."

"Thanks." John said with a little smile to match. He turned away from Natasha, looking back to Sherlock, as if making sure again that he was still alive. A moment passed and then he, as carefully as he could, got off the bed. He was already taking off his belt and boots as he wandered into the room Molly occupied, and without much ceremony, flopped onto the second bed and curled up under the covers. He was asleep as soon as his head his the pillow.

Natasha relaxed against the headboard once John was out of the room and reached over to run her fingers through Sherlock's curls. Soft as they were, and soothing as the activity was, she was tempted to simply close her eyes and doze off for a little bit. She was tired enough, as was evident in every feature, limb and gesture, but the need to be there and ready for Sherlock if he did wake up stopped her from giving in. She could always sleep later, after their group was reunited and in for the night.

So keeping a steady rhythm with her hand, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Not to sleep, but to meditate and keep watch until Mycroft and Naomi arrived.


	17. Blown Up Mines and Stolen Moments

**Chapter 17: Blown Up Mines and Stolen Moments**

Mycroft veered away from the other landspeeder and made for the mountains where previously Natasha, Sherlock and their padawans had spotted the manufacturing factory. He glanced briefly at Naomi. "Are you alright?"

"Fine. Much better than an hour ago." Naomi replied, squeezing his hand again. "You are as well." She noted. The relief was much better than grief. It had been an intense day. Emotional, painful, but things were looking up, as they say. She smiled at him, pulling his hand up to kiss the back of it.

Mycroft couldn't hold back a smile of his own and he squeezed her hand. "Yes, much better than an hour ago," he confirmed. "Let's hope that doesn't change when we get to the manufacturing plant." His thoughts drifted to the remaining Cybermen he hadn't seen, but had heard about from Natasha and Sherlock. "Do we have a plan?"

"Go in, deactivate those remaining, blow up the mine, then I _think_ I'm going to kiss you." Naomi said, listing off the instructions with a small smirk. "Is that acceptable?"

"Sounds perfectly acceptable to me," Mycroft replied with a smirk that mirrored hers. "As a matter of fact, I'm tempted to speed things along with the fist two in order to get to the third one faster." His smirk widened into a smile. "Is _that _acceptable?"

"Perfectly acceptable." Naomi replied, turning her eyes to the white landscape. "Are we getting too old for you to pin me against a wall? Because I do enjoy that."

"Not too old for that," Mycroft replied quickly. "Certainly not. As soon as we're done here, we can do that wherever and whenever you like." He flashed a smile her way. "Though perhaps we'll need to take a few extra precautions, considering my brother will likely deduce what we've been up to if we're not careful."

"Your brother nearly died, I'm not sure he'll be deducing anything while sleeping." Naomi commented.

"Now while sleeping, but certainly when he wakes up," Mycroft replied with a bit of an amused smile.

"Anyways, I'm almost convinced he knows already." She paused thoughtfully. "But you can still be careful with me. I _was _stabbed with a lightsaber yesterday."

"I do agree with you, however. I'm convinced he knows, or at the very least has his suspicions. It's curious he hasn't said anything." But naturally, it wasn't a subject he was eager to discuss either. Not with anyone except Naomi. He squeezed her hand one more time. "I'll be careful with you this time."

"This time?" Naomi raised a brow initially, but then smiled again. "Then next perhaps not so careful?" She teased. "Either way, I just want you." There was no more grief at the loss of a team member, and the mission was nearly completed, which they should finish with very little trouble. This was her favorite time with him, especially after months of being away from each other. The celebration after a mission complete, the stress level down, the threat eliminated.

Mycroft's chuckle at her tease was lighter than it had been in a long while and he turned affectionate blue eyes her way. "In case I haven't said it enough times today, I love you, Naomi," he told her honestly, and a second later the manufacturing plant came into view. A distant black stain in a sea of white. His eyes turned towards the spot and locked on it. "We'll decide what we want to do later, there's plenty of time. For now," he very nearly smiled, "let's save a planet."

The manufacturing plant was empty, the workers gone, or upgraded, when the majority of the Cybermen activated. There were still plenty of Cybermen, however. Either waiting for orders, or waiting for the organic material that would control them. Naomi found it disgusting, the inhumanness of it. These creatures would bring nothing but death. They weren't only saving a planet, but even a galaxy from an incursion of this kind. They were quick about it, disabling the Cybermen, and rigging the entire place to explode. It would take the mine as well. Phrik, a lightsaber resistant material, was either extremely dangerous or beneficial, depending on who's hands it got into. This time, it seemed best just to let it go, bury it with all the broken metal men it covered.

The energy between them was light, and victorious, even with Sherlock's injuries, they had all survived. They'd taken out their opponents, and had saved a planet. All cause for celebration. Her injury was nearly healed, both with her advanced healing ability and John's help, it was moving along quite nicely and she'd likely be back at full strength within a day or so. Not the first near-death experience she'd had, but one of the scarier ones. Hopefully the next time was far in the future. She smiled lightly to herself at that thought, and slipped her hand into his as they left the plant. A snap of her fingers, drawing the Force from each other, and the explosions went off, burying the plant and dead Cybermen under the mountain.

Mycroft found himself sparing one last glance for the burning plant they'd left behind. Naturally, he wasn't a man given to bouts of sentimentality beyond what was expected of him as a Jedi Master, but given the nature and circumstances of their mission, it was unavoidable. So he allowed himself that one last look and turned his attention towards Naomi. "Now, then," he began as they neared the landspeeder. "We did mention some sort of celebration after we completed the task. Something about me being careful, I believe."

"Did we? I might have forgotten." Naomi replied, her tone bored but with the slightest hint of a tease. "Making things explode is rather fun. Maybe I'll blow up a sun next. I'm sure there are ways." She smiled at him. "But yes, there is cause for celebration. And you're in the drivers seat, pick me a place."

"There are very few places here left intact or unoccupied," Mycroft mused, letting go of her hand to climb into the driver's seat. "Perhaps we can simply use the speeder and dock it somewhere... remote."

"We're certainly not too old for that either." Naomi said, settling in and placing a quick kiss on his cheek. "First time seeing each other in nearly three months and I nearly die on you, I think we can go wherever you want."

"Then let's find a place with a proper bed," Mycroft concluded with a small smile. He brought the speeder to life and set a speedy course back towards the city. "After that, we'll contact Natasha and find out where they are. Surely there's a place around here we can use."

"I'm sure there is. Somewhere abandoned or blown up?" Naomi said thoughtfully. "And if you don't find it quickly, I _am_ going to pounce on you in the speeder."

Mycroft glanced at her and a moment later reached over to place a hand on her leg. "I'll find it quickly," he assured her. "I fear we'd crash if you pounced on me right now," he teased, but already he'd increased the speed and steered them towards a block of buildings that hadn't been blown up precisely because they were abandoned. They were located towards the edge of the city, and by the looks of them very few, if any people at all, had bothered with them. He pointed them out to Naomi. "How about those?"

"More than acceptable, darling." Naomi replied, slipping her hand to hold his on her leg and peering at the buildings in question. Quiet, abandoned, relatively unscathed, empty streets. They'd have time here. "Can't be as bad as the place we used on Humburl."

"Very few places will be as bad as that one," Mycroft replied with a slight grimace. "At the very least I'm hoping that's the case." He steered through a few turns before finally coming to a stop beside one of the buildings. Tall, cracking and dilapidated as it was, he thought he might've spoken too soon. "Well... perhaps the beds will be in better condition," he commented. "And if they aren't, we can always use a wall."

"I don't say this often…but you're thinking too much. Let's go." Naomi said as she hopped out of the speeder, leaning back in to smile at him. "We don't have all day. And like I said, I will take you anywhere. Wall, broken bed, speeder, table…"

Mycroft pulled her in close and kissed her fiercely. "Keep talking like that," he said in a low voice when he pulled away. "And I won't be thinking at all very soon." Taking her hand, he pulled her inside the building and shut the door behind them before leaning in to kiss her again.

Naomi paid very little attention to the room itself, her hands running through his hair and over his neck, down his shoulder blades. Her eyes were closed, pressing herself into him. So familiar, and yet, they never got tired of it. Perhaps it was the forbidden nature of it. This was celebratory, as they usually were after a mission complete. She couldn't imagine how things might have shifted if Sherlock had actually died. But none of that mattered at the moment. She broke away, reaching to unfasten his cloak. "I think there's a bed in that back. Cloaks down, we should be fine."

Mycroft slipped his cloak off when he was finished and leaned in to trail kisses down her neck. "It's a good thing you're thinking now," he murmured against her skin. "Because I... am not." He reached up to tangle one hand into her hair and pressed another passionate kiss to her lips. "Lead the way."

"Just how I want you." Naomi said, letting out of soft sigh as he pulled away. Eyes opened and she smiled affectionally at him. Taking his cloak in one hand and his hand in the other, she stepped backwards, leading the way through the sparse and rundown building. She tossed both their cloaks out on the bed to free her hands and then reached for his belt, stepping up close to him again. "How is your balance now?"

Mycroft inhaled deeply and reached up to cup her face with his hands. "Better than it was before," he told her quietly. "Being with you certainly helped, but knowing what we know now..." He exhaled slowly and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. "I'm much better." Removing his hands from her face, he trailed them down and over her until they reached her belt. "And yours?"

"Hmm, hard to focus on when you're doing that…" Naomi said with a sigh. She smiled at him, slipping cool hands under his tunic. "But just fine now that you're…improved. Everyone's alive and safe, relatively." She pulled the garment up and over his head, tossing it towards an overturned chair. "And I have you."

"Hmm," Mycroft hummed thoughtfully, tossing Naomi's belt to the side and moving on to her tunic. "We've got each other, don't we? Feels like we've got quite a bit more than most people in our position." He slipped the garment over her head and tossed it back to land with his on top of the chair. Pulling back, he took a minute to look her over. "Beautiful."

Naomi smiled up at him, running a hand unconsciously over the still-healing scar from Moriarty's lightsaber, just one among many. "And you dear, are gorgeous." She toed off her boots, and then reached a hand to smooth over his chest. "And yes, I think you're right, as usual. We have more than most."

Mycroft pulled her close again and leaned in for another kiss, this one a little gentler than previous ones. Scars and all, he would always find Naomi beautiful, and desirable, not just physically but in all other areas as well. Such things did not change with time, not for him, and in an effort to tell her with actions rather than words, he trailed his hands over her, slowly allowing them to wander even as he deepened the kiss.

Naomi would pull him closer, and back towards the bed. The clothes would end up in some scattered pile on the floor. She'd lay back on the cloaks they'd just shed, bringing him with her. And together, with the familiarity of life-long friends and a decade of being lovers, they'd celebrate. Carefully, as promised. But his touch was gentle, and kind, and almost thoughtful, and she adored every second of it. Actions instead of words, the Force flowing so easily between them, whispered promises and complete vulnerability, it was nearly overwhelming even now. Each moment was a gift, a blessing that they never knew if they'd be able to relive. When their bodies stilled, Naomi lay panting underneath him, pressing kisses on any point she could reach.

"Are you alright? Mycroft asked between breaths, propping himself up to keep most of his weight off her but moving down so he could rest his forehead against her shoulder. "Nothing hurts? I didn't harm you?"

"I'm fine…fantastic actually." Naomi said, drawing in one deep breath and letting it out slowly as she worked on gaining control over herself. Resting her head back and closing her eyes again, her hand slipped into his hair, carding gently through it. "Perfectly executed, and no, you did not harm me. Because you are very good."

Mycroft pressed a kiss to the first patch of skin he could find before rolling off her and pulling her to his chest. "You," he told her quietly, "are very good as well, darling. Perfectly executed." He smiled a bit. "I love you."

"_I love you too._" Naomi said, slipping into Enochian with a soft sigh as she relaxed against him. She lapsed into a comfortable silence for a long moment, sorely tempted just to drift off to sleep. But there were things to do, and they'd been away for far too long already. Shifting so she could catch him in a fierce kiss, she then pulled away, looking him over with a soft smile. "As much as I'd love to spend all day in bed with you, we should probably head back."

"Of course," Mycroft agreed, sneaking another quick kiss before letting her go and sitting up in bed. "We'll contact Natasha as soon as we're out of here for their location," he said, throwing his legs off the bed and rising to his feet. "If they've found one, that is, but I'm sure they have."

"I think they have as well." Naomi said, taking a moment to stretch before following him out of bed to pick up the discarded clothes. She tossed his tunic at his with a cheeky smile. "I will need a shower once we're there, a pity you can't join me."

Mycroft smiled when he caught his tunic in the face and quickly pulled it over his body. "Once we get to the Temple, if we're careful, perhaps something can be arranged." He plucked his pants off the floor and moved to put them on. "Still, I agree... a shame it can't be now, but then... we've always been the patient sort."

"We're nothing if not patient." Naomi replied, reaching for her boots next. She shook the bit of melted snow off of them and sat down to put them on. "I assume you're going to want to have more than a short conversation with your brother."

"Yes," Mycroft confirmed quickly, finishing up with his belt and sitting on the bed to pull on his boots. "Perhaps once we're well on our way home I can pull him aside for it." He paused. "Assuming he's in the mood to talk in the first place, he rarely is."

"He jumped off a mountain today… to save us and the planet." Naomi said, reaching to touch his arm. "I'm sure he'll listen if you want to speak to him." She gave him a little smile and a peck on the cheek and then stood up. "I can help it along if you need me, but I doubt you do."

"I need you for many things, but this is one I can do myself," Mycroft assured her. "But... thank you. It helps to know I can... count on you should I need it." He smiled briefly and rose to his feet. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes, I think so." Naomi picked up her cloak as the last item, shaking it out slightly and then putting it on with a swoop. She slipped her hand into his and headed for the door. "It appears we have to go back to work. Can you contact Natasha to get their location?"

"Back to work," he repeated. "Unfortunately," he added in a mutter as he fished out his comm link and placed a call to Natasha. The exchange was brief and quiet, directions to the place and the best route to get there. Another few words about his brother's current state, but no details. He'd ask about the details later. A second after he'd stowed away the device, he was climbing into the speeder and pulling away from the abandoned building with a last look over his shoulder.


	18. Together Again

**Chapter 18: Together Again**

Once they were well on their way, Mycroft reached for Naomi's hand and twined their fingers, keeping mostly silent throughout the ride. There were still a few things that needed to be done if they wanted to return to the Temple any time soon, and he organized such things inside his head accordingly. People needed to be checked on, transport needed to be arranged.

They arrived at the proper location a moment later, and he squeezed Naomi's hand before docking the speeder and climbing out. He spared a quick glance Naomi's way and for himself, just in case his brother was awake when they arrived. "Just beyond that turn down there," he told her.

Naomi smiled at him, giving him one more tender look before they had to go back to their usual behavior. Once at the proper door, she knocked once and then unlocked it, leading them both inside. She gave Natasha a brief smile, her eyes flitting down to the sleeping form of Sherlock. She could feel John and Molly in the back room, both sleeping as well. And for good reason, it had been an exhausting couple days, both emotionally and physically. "Natasha, you should get some rest." She said quietly. "Is there anything else we need to know?"

Natasha inhaled deeply and shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "John took care of him before he went to bed. He just needs to rest." Her eyes flitted down to Sherlock for a brief moment and she reluctantly, but tiredly, moved off the bed. "Molly brought food and water," she gestured to the table. "Should be enough for all of us."

"Then Naomi's right, you should get some rest," Mycroft told her. "We'll take it from here."

Natasha nodded once, sparing another look for Sherlock before moving towards the door. Bathing would be first, but at least a short nap would follow soon after. "Let me know if you need anything."

"We'll be fine. Go sleep." Naomi said, making a shooing motion with one hand as she loosened her cloak with the other. Time to tuck in, get things figured out.

Mycroft kept his cloak but stepped up to the bed to look over his brother. His very much alive brother. "I think," he began quietly, "that I'll go out and see about a carrier to take us home." A small sigh of relief made it past his lips and he turned on the spot. "If there's anything you need while I'm out, Natasha has a comm link. I'll be back as soon as possible." He called with a brief wave as he slipped out the door.

* * *

><p>It was several hours later by the time Sherlock even stirred, blinking open clear blue eyes and trying to bring the world into focus. His first thought was how warm it was, the next, the fact that his body didn't feel like it was going to fall apart. All good signs. He let out a little groan, pushing himself up to a sitting position. His eyes fell on the only other person in the room, Naomi, who was sitting at the table with a data pad.<p>

She glanced up at him, looking him over quickly. "Everyone else is asleep. Running on nearly five hours now. Mycroft is out securing a transport, should be back any moment." She paused, eyes sweeping over him again. "You're looking better."

"Feeling better." Sherlock agreed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Catching himself before he fell off of it. "Relatively."

The door opened a moment later and Mycroft stepped through with a flourish of his grey cloak. "I returned our stolen speeder and sold the other, but we now have a ship to take us home," he announced. "Whenever we're ready, of course."

Sherlock let out a breath, running a hand through his messy curls as he looked up at his brother. "Hi." Nearly awkwardly.

Naomi otherwise ignored Sherlock, her eyes on Mycroft as well. "Probably should do that sooner rather than later. I've contacted the Temple, gave them the basics and promised a full debrief when we returned." She paused. "How was the situation with the people?"

"They're coping," Mycroft told Naomi, "and I did find the Prime Minister amongst the chaos. Now that everything's been taken care of he's more... compliant, than he was before." He removed his cloak and threw it on the bed. "He's taken charge," he concluded, before turning towards his little brother. "Sherlock, hello," he said in an equally awkward tone. "How are you?"

"Better." Sherlock said, wrapping the blanket he'd been draped in a little tighter around his shoulders. "Much better." He paused, trying to get his still foggy brain into working shape. "Look…I suppose I should have told you I could do that…for logistical reasons of course." For it didn't really cross his mind that Mycroft would have mourned his loss. "Moriarty had to be stopped, and that was the best way…"

Mycroft observed him for a moment before approaching. "It would've been better if I'd known," he began cautiously. "And not only for logistical reasons." There was a pause, but there was little hesitation. It was only Sherlock and Naomi with him in that room and he trusted them both. Completely. "Your loss... would break my heart." With those words out of his mouth, he straightened his posture and cleared his throat. "But we'll talk about it later. As Naomi mentioned, we should leave as soon as possible."

Naomi watched Mycroft throughout the encounter, her eyes flitting to see the brief moment of surprise on Sherlock's face. She rolled with the change of subject, the Holmes brothers would talk out their issues at another time. "I went to check on the other three, I'm nearly certain John will be sleeping through the next day. He's done far too much healing over the last couple days than someone his age should. Both Natasha and Molly are sleeping as well, but I'm sure we can wake them up any time. We'll have time and space to rest again on the way back."

"I'll go." Sherlock said, standing up from the bed with a little wobble. Bare feet on the wood floor and blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he slowly made his way into the dark room that the three other members of their team slept. John was curled up in the usual way in one bed, looking completely exhausted even as he slept. Sherlock's hand went out and he ran it once through the fluffy blond hair, his thoughts drifting to what his death would have meant for his padawan. He dismissed that quickly, moving away to the second bed, where Molly and Natasha were sleeping. He very nearly smiled at the relaxed pair, just happy that they were both alive as well. He hesitated, but simply leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Natasha's forehead, running a hand through her loose red hair. "Natasha?"

Natasha's eyes fluttered open and her lips quirked into a sleepy smile she was barely aware of. "Sherlock," she said, more than asked. "What's wrong? Do we need to go out for something?" There was a brief pause where her mind worked on finding answers to those questions itself, and she reached out to touch the blanket wrapped tightly around him. "Can't really go out wearing this," she teased quietly.

"You undressed me in the first place. And I wasn't going to change into clean clothes with Naomi and Mycroft watching." Sherlock retorted with a smile to match hers. "We've got transport home, it's time to get ready to go. They want to leave as soon as possible."

"Alright," Natasha replied with a little yawn. "I'll get ready first and wake Molly up in a few minutes," she told him, very carefully sitting up in bed so she wouldn't wake her padawan. She lowered her feet to the floor and stood, giving him a brief once over while she stretched. Her lips twitched into another smile. "Need help?"

"Getting dressed? That I think I can handle on my own. This time" Sherlock said quietly, shifting away from her. "Don't try to wake John, last time he even did half the healing as he did this time, he slept eighteen hours straight."

"I won't," Natasha promised, sparing a brief look at John over her shoulder. Inevitably, she found herself smiling a bit again. "You should be proud of him," she whispered as she moved away to ready herself. "This mission wouldn't have been half as successful without him."

"I am." Sherlock said after a moment's hesitation. "He saved you, me, and Naomi, and helped rescue Molly. I'm more than proud." He paused. "Can't take credit for most of that though, that's all his own."

Natasha reached out and briefly touched his arm as she brushed past him. "You two are your own people but you make each other better," she replied. "Just like you and I make each other better." She gave him a light squeeze. "You should tell him," she suggested as she let him go. "That you're proud, I mean. He'll appreciate it."

Sherlock smiled briefly, glancing down at his sleeping padawan as he followed her out of the room. He'd deduced that Naomi had cleaned and dried his clothes, and he said a short 'thank you' to her as he grabbed them from the table and slipped into the refresher. A few minutes later, and without much ceremony, he'd dressed and cared for himself. He barely gave his mirror reflection another glance to see a pale bruised face, and came back out to the scene in the main room, tossing the blanket back to the bed.

Natasha had bathed and dressed after Naomi had dismissed her before, so there was very little to do except freshen up and wake her padawan. Molly acknowledged her instructions with a sleepy nod, and Natasha couldn't help leaning in to press a kiss to her padawan's forehead. For what felt like the hundredth time, she wondered what she would've done if she'd lost her but it was illogical to think of that then. She was fine, if a little bruised from her time with Petrovich. It was taking Natasha a considerable amount of control to let that go but she knew she had to. With time, perhaps. Another kiss pressed to Molly's forehead and she slipped out into the main room to join Mycroft, Naomi and Sherlock. "Molly's getting ready," she told the rest of them as she sunk down onto one of the beds, Mycroft and Naomi having occupied the other two seats. "Everything's all set?"

"For the most part, I believe," Mycroft answered from his chair. "The locals have been taken care of, and transport has been secured. Naomi spoke to the Council earlier as well."

"We'll be debriefed about the events of the mission." Naomi replied, standing from her seat. "But they did not seem displeased that we had to kill both Moriarty and Petrovich. Circumstances led to it." She reached for her cloak, shutting off the data pad. She gave Molly a fond smile when the padawan walked into the room.

Sherlock put his hands on his hips, his brow pinching in slight concentration. "I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to think, talk, and rest on the trip home. I'm ready to get off of this planet."

"Then let's go," Natasha said, pulling Molly towards her to quickly braid her long hair. Her padawan's eyes were still trained on Naomi and Natasha could almost see the gratefully happy expression on her face. She suppressed a smile. "There's not much to pack, so I'll gather the few things we've still got with us now." She gave Molly a pat to let her know she was done and her padawan darted over to Naomi for what was a characteristic display of affection for her, but perhaps not for anyone else. Without much ceremony, Molly threw her arms around the Jedi Master and gave her a hug. Natasha ignored the interaction and stood. "Anything else?"

Mycroft tore his eyes away from what was happening just beside him to address Natasha. "No, I think that'll be all," he answered. "We'll all do the same and meet back here."

Naomi was a bit surprised, but took it in stride. She smiled fondly and wrapped her arms around the much shorter padawan and squeezed her just a tight as she was being squeezed. "Hello Molly."

"I think I can carry John." Sherlock said, already reaching for his lightsaber, which had been put on the table. He clipped it on his belt and moved back to the back room, saying over his shoulder. "He's not very big, and it's not that far."

Natasha spared Molly and Naomi a last look before turning to follow Sherlock into the room. Mycroft sat back in his chair, once again turning his attention to Naomi and Molly. He bit back an amused smile.

"Hello Naomi," Molly sighed, letting go of her a moment later with a bit of an embarrassed smile. "I'm... I'm glad you're alive."

"And I'm glad you're alive as well." Naomi replied back, squeezing the young girl's shoulder with a fond smile. She felt a bit at a loss for words, the events of the last couple days all streaming together. "And if you need to talk about what happened, you know where to find me."

"Yes, I know," Molly nodded quickly. "And I might... eventually... it's just all a jumble right now." Her eyes darted to Mycroft and she straightened her posture. "I'm going to help Natasha pack," she announced, but quickly hesitated. "And... thank you," she concluded, smiling one more time before darting out the door and into the next bedroom.

Sherlock slipped into the bedroom, coming up next to the bed. Without much ceremony, he leaned over and scooped John, and the blanket he was wrapped in, up. John had always been easy to carry, and Sherlock had a sentimental flashback to when John was much younger, and much shorter. He gave Natasha a small smile, almost sure she knew what he was thinking. If there was any a time for sentiment, it was after events such as this. With that smile, he moved back to the main room. "Ready?"

Between her and Natasha, they made quick work of packing their things with Natasha pausing only once to look at Sherlock as he snatched his padawan into his arms. Molly hadn't missed the slight smile on her Master's face, but had quickly returned to her appointed task. A few minutes later, they were back out in the main room, all packed up and ready to go.

"Ready," Natasha answered Sherlock, ushering Molly towards the door when Mycroft rose to his feet.

"The cruiser is just beyond the edge of the city, but fortunately for us that's very close now," he announced as he opened the door. "So off we go."

They made their way to the cruiser with very little trouble, getting various curious looks from the denizens. Gossip about the six cloak wearing strangers must have spread quickly. Sherlock paid them no mind, just concentrated on holding his padawan and keeping himself moving.

Naomi had taken the lead with Mycroft, walking close to him as they weaved their way to the edge of the city. The cruiser was smaller than the one they'd taken from the Temple, but it would do. She could fly nearly anything, and enjoyed it. The ramp lowered as they approached, closing behind them once they were all aboard. With a quiet word to Mycroft, she headed immediately for the cockpit to ready the ship.

Once they were aboard, Sherlock moved on to the sleeping quarters, three small rooms, two bunked beds each. He carefully placed John on a lower bunk, tucking him in and straightening up with a quiet contemplative look. Turning off the light on his way out, he slipped out to find Natasha and Molly.

* * *

><p>Mycroft followed Naomi into the cockpit after everyone had gone their separate ways, and leaned in to place a brief kiss on her cheek. "Are you alright? That was some rather... odd behavior from Natasha's padawan."<p>

Naomi smiled against his kiss, her hands still working to get the ship ready for take off. "Molly thought I died trying to save her and spent the night being abused and taunted by Ivan Petrovich. She also lacks skill when it comes to controlling emotion. I figured that was a completely normal response for her."

"Perhaps," Mycroft allowed, moving over to the seat next to her. "Odd that it was directed towards you, I suppose. I'm aware she admires you, and harbors affectionate feelings for you, that much is obvious." He smiled a little. "But I've always thought her fear, or perhaps respect is the proper word, would keep her from ever showing it to you."

"Like I said, it must have been the circumstances." Naomi said, putting her hands on the controller and lifting them up off the ground. "If I'm being honest, I really didn't mind….I missed it. A padawan comfortable around me."

Mycroft properly settled into his seat and fixed his eyes on what lay beyond the window in front of them. "Circumstances," he repeated. "Emotional reactions always puzzle me, I'll admit, but I believe you're right." He paused and turned to look at her. "You still won't take another padawan?"

"I've thought about it." Naomi said, making the necessary calculations as they left the atmosphere. "But at this point…I'm not sure we could continue…_this_, if I did." She paused. "It'd be much more difficult to say the least. So at this point, no, I don't think I'm going to take another. I enjoy the classes I guest speak for, and these missions with Molly and John. But that's enough for me."

"True," Mycroft agreed in a thoughtful tone. "I wouldn't want to keep you from something that makes you happy, however," he added a second later. "Or something that gives you satisfaction, as much as I so prefer having you all to myself." He glanced over his shoulder and flashed her a fond smile after making sure no one was within earshot. "My love for you is not the selfish kind."

Naomi smiled as she usually did when he said something like that, soft and lighting up her eyes. "You make me happy, and I'm not going to give that up. I find enough satisfaction where I am now." After pushing the series of buttons to send them into hyperspace, she reached for his hand. "My choice is not made without thought."

Mycroft took her hand in his with a soft, relieved smile. "Good," he said with a short nod. "In that case, I am happy as well." He gave her hand a squeeze. "I don't know if I should find Sherlock now or wait until after he's rested."

"That's your choice." Naomi said, bringing his hand up to kiss. "Just don't keep putting it off. I think he needs to know…that you care about him. Sooner rather than later."

"You're right," Mycroft agreed, giving Naomi's hand another squeeze and rising to his feet. "I think I'll do that now, if he's still up and about." He leaned over to pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Thank you, darling," he said quietly, and a second later he was slipping out of the cockpit.

* * *

><p>Natasha and Molly had put away what little they'd carried away as soon as they'd entered the room before Molly had once again collapsed on the bottom bed. Natasha sat beside her on the edge of the mattress, gently pulling her padawan's hair out of her braid and running her fingers through it. It was only Sherlock stepping through their door that pulled her attention away from the task. "Hey," she said quietly. "You know you should get some rest too, don't you?"<p>

"Yeah, I will once we're in hyperspace." Sherlock said, looking her over quickly. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe "Probably for a good long while. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine," she assured him, leaning over to make sure Molly was asleep before rising off the bed and walking over to where he stood. "Just feeling a little uncharacteristically sentimental, but that seems to be the order of the day with this mission." She turned off the lights in the room and came a little closer. "What about you?"

"I'm alive." Sherlock said quietly, barely resisting the urge to slip his hand into her soft hair and pull her closer. In the dim light, he could just make out her features. "That's something, isn't it? Otherwise…I'm alright. Processing…everything, I suppose."

"That _is_ something, I prefer it when you're alive," Natasha agreed in a half whisper, reaching up to his crossed arms and lightly tracing her fingertips over one of his hands. "When we get back to the Temple," she said after a short pause. "After we've been debriefed and everything's settled." She stilled her hand. "Come find me."

Sherlock nodded, unfolding his arms. He used a hand to cup her cheek, gently running his thumb over her cheekbone. "I will, I promise."

Natasha closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Right then it would've been easy to say the words. Too easy and too tempting, but a cruiser full of Jedi simply wasn't the right setting. So instead, she opened her eyes and turned her head to kiss the palm of his hand. "I'm holding you to that promise, Charming."

Sherlock took his hand away, giving it a confused look, trying to understand that behavior. He rubbed it a bit in a nervous habit and straightened. "Well then. I might…go get some rest. I'm sure you need it as well."

Natasha studied him for a moment, trying to pinpoint his reaction. Confusion? Dislike? Perhaps she'd crossed a line? "Right," she said after a moment, pulling her hands back and clasping them in front of her. "Go," she ordered. "I'm staying up for a little while longer."

"Thank you." Sherlock said, not moving to leave just yet. "For saving my life, having my back…and not reacting violently when you learned I faked my death." He very nearly smiled. "I missed you."

Natasha did smile and in the way she reserved for all of three people in the entire galaxy, but mostly one in particular. "I missed you too. More than you can imagine," she replied. "And you're welcome, but you really don't have to thank me for any of that." Her smile turned mischievous. "Except maybe about reacting violently, that one took a lot of effort. I'll accept thanks for that."

"Well you did very well. I like a kiss better than a punch any day." Sherlock said, smiling with her finally. They'd talk that later, for the moment he felt Mycroft headed their way. Picking up his hand again, he ran a thumb along her jawline. "We'll talk later." He said and winked at her, pulling away to greet his brother in the dimly lit hallway.

Mycroft stopped just a few short steps away from his brother and clasped his hands behind his back. "Brother dear," he greeted. "I trust everything is in order with Natasha and your padawans?"

Sherlock glanced as the door to the room shut and nodded. "All sleeping, or almost sleeping now." He looked back at his brother. "Understandable considering…and I'm nearly ready to go do that myself. But I have a feeling you want to talk."

"Not for very long," Mycroft assured him quickly. "I suppose I just wanted to make sure you're truly... alright." He paused. "Your death, or near death more accurately, came as quite a... shock." He cleared his throat. "I wasn't prepared for it."

"We're Jedi, Mycroft. Shouldn't we always be prepared for death?" Sherlock asked, lacking the usual snark, much to his own surprise. He looked down for a moment. "I'm sorry."

"Prepared for death, yes," Mycroft conceded with a small nod. "But not prepared for _your_ death," he added. "You're my brother, and as I mentioned before... your loss would break my heart." He cleared his throat again. "That's... all I wanted to say. There's no need to be sorry."

Sherlock met Mycroft's eyes again, attempting to understand this…familial sentiment. "While I was not planning on dying, I was prepared for it. Relatively. Aside from the hole it'd leave in my padawan's life, my partner's…and evidently, yours as well." He paused. "I'm just not sure how I'm supposed to respond to that…I didn't know."

"There's no need to respond," Mycroft assured him quickly. "I simply wanted you to... know. Right, then," he stretched to his full height. "Now that that's settled, off you go."

"And now I do know." Sherlock crossed his arms again, unconsciously straightening as well. "You care about Naomi too, don't you? In the more than a mission partner way."

Mycroft hesitated, casting a brief look over his shoulder at the cockpit just beyond the hallway before turning back towards his brother. "Yes," he said quietly, all too aware Sherlock wouldn't bring it up if he hadn't observed more than his fair share of things over the years. "She's... my best friend."

Sherlock just stared at him, expression impassive. "Curious." He said after a moment. "But not altogether unexpected…and I only know a part of what you'v been through together." Another pause. "Is it wrong? This…caring? Both for a brother and a friend?"

"I'm not entirely certain," Mycroft admitted after another short pause. "I reason that as long as I - we - don't lose our balance because of it, there is nothing wrong with it. Naomi and I, specifically, have an understanding. The Order comes first." He paused again. "Of course, should anyone else hear of it they'd likely disagree."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to go blabbing your secrets." Sherlock assured him quickly. "I'm not that cruel. We are brothers after all." He took a second to process the theory of keeping balance, and the priorities they must have had. If it's worked for Mycroft thus far…it could work for him. So he nodded his head at that conclusion. "Anyways…thank you. I suppose."

"No need to thank me, I should be thanking you instead," Mycroft replied, giving him a curious once over before he half turned to return to the cockpit. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Right. Will do." Sherlock said. In truth, he was still sorting through this whole mess. From nearly dying, to Natasha's response, to Mycroft's brotherly compassion, too many emotions for him to handle at once. He needed sleep. Maybe that would help. Giving his brother one more nod, he turned and headed the other direction, slipping into his bedroom quickly and quietly. He needed to think, as well as sleep. Seconds later, he was curled up in the top bunk, and sleep claimed him before he could do any serious thinking.

* * *

><p>Mycroft slipped back into the cockpit with Naomi and took up his previous seat. "Well, I've talked to him," he told her. "And you were right, he knows." He sat back. "Naturally, he won't say anything, but then I didn't think he would."<p>

"Good." Naomi turned her seat to face him, her legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap. "Because I'm going to be having a conversation with Natasha about something similar." She paused. "The feeling her life Force gave off through the whole ordeal of Sherlock's supposed death, especially in those moments of vulnerability…it was very familiar. If you understand what I mean."

"I think I do." Mycroft turned in his chair to face her, in much the same way she had. "You think she harbors feelings for my brother, similar to the way you... harbored feelings for me." He paused. "I'm not sure if my brother's capable of the same... but then some might say I'm not capable of it either."

"And I'd like to talk her through either response, should she choose to divulge her feelings for him. Because…" Naomi smiled slightly, and then quoted herself from years ago. "..they are both horrible options. And she should know she's not alone. Is that alright with you?"

Mycroft smiled a little and nodded once. "Yes, it's perfectly alright with me," he assured her. "I'm sure she would appreciate the guidance and, considering the circumstances, wouldn't think of revealing what she learns about you and me." He paused again. "Even without current circumstances, I think. She's always been private about what she knows, save for my brother."

"Seems similar all around then, doesn't it?" Naomi said with a soft sigh. "Not that unexpected. Sometimes I wonder if the Code is right, if the Order has the correct mindset when it comes to things like this." She shook her head. "It matters not, I suppose, we cannot change it. And I am more than ready to curl up in your arms and sleep."

"I've often thought the Order has taken it to extremes, but you are correct. It matters not." Mycroft rose to his feet and offered Naomi his hand. "Let's go to bed, then. You can speak to Natasha after we're all rested."

Naomi took his hand without hesitation, grateful that everyone else on board was sleeping so they could indulge in the more physical signs of affection. She let him lead her to their room, barely giving the two bunks a second glance she let go of his hand and started stripping down. A few minutes later they were curled up together on the bottom bunk, drifting off to a much needed sleep.


	19. Only the Beginning

**Chapter 19: Only the beginning**

Their arrival back at Coruscant coincided with the first rays or morning light and both John and Molly, now well-rested and fed after the 27 hour trip, eagerly stared out the window while Naomi docked the ship. It had been a somewhat quiet journey back, spent predominantly either sleeping, meditating, or in quiet conversation about one thing or another. Naturally there'd been one short conversation about the upcoming meeting with the Council, but matters were settled quickly and they all went back to whatever they'd been doing before. John and Molly quietly playing cards in some corner; Sherlock and Natasha conversing, or more likely keeping quiet; Mycroft and Naomi in the cockpit either talking, or meditation, or both.

Naomi had found Natasha as she'd said she would, and tucked away in a quiet corner of the cruiser, they spoke. The mutual trust between them allowed for the exchange of such delicate secrets. When a Jedi loved someone, and didn't want the thousands of Force-sensitive others in the Temple to know, a shield had to be built around them. Something to disguise and block the Force connection that would grow, to keep those emotionally intimate moments between just the two of them. She encouraged her at the possibility that something like this could work if done properly, in the event Sherlock agreed. But she also warned of the chance of being caught, the consequences, as well as the stigma that may result. Rejection, on the other hand, would be painful and heartbreaking, but probably safer. Horrible options indeed, but that was their life. Despite being Jedi, they were still beings, not emotionless machines. They parted ways with Naomi giving Natasha a knowing smile, the promise of a conversation, and the freedom to ask any questions she may have.

John and Sherlock had their own conversation, in their room. The sounds of the fight that resulted, now that they were both healed and rested, echoed through the small ship. Evidently faking one's death and not informing one's padawan that there was the possibility it might happen, was not appropriate. John had cooled off quickly though, and in the quietness of the room, had pulled his master into another fierce hug.

The eventual debriefing with the Council wasn't short but it was straightforward, with Naomi having communicated most of the relevant information when she'd contacted them back in Atoa. Questions were geared initially towards the events leading to Moriarty's and Petrovich's deaths, but eventually gave way to other, more important things, like details about the Cybermen and the Phrik mine they'd discovered. Natasha was singled out only twice to offer explanation. Once for Petrovich, and a second time to explain about the Cyberman unit she'd gotten a closer look at. With both the Cybermen and the mine having been buried beneath piles and piles of likely still burning rubble there wasn't much need for detail, but an entry would still have to be made in the Archives for future reference.

The end of the meeting with the Council was somewhat of a relief, for Naomi at least. And she was ready to take a few days to relax and recuperate before their next mission, which had already been hinted. Mycroft was a skilled diplomat, and his talents were needed frequently. With a soft smile exchanged, Naomi and Mycroft left the Council room and headed straight for their favorite walking destination, the Room of a Thousand Fountains, for a bit of quiet company and conversation. Their evening would consist of Naomi sneaking into Mycroft's room, but for the moment, conversation would do.

Once they'd been dismissed and gone their separate ways, Natasha made sure Molly was properly settled before allowing her to go off with John. There was still some concern as to her well-being, but Molly insisted more than once that she was fine, going as far as telling her Master that she was starting to sound a lot like her, 'worrying all the time'. Natasha had shushed her with a quick smile and promptly dismissed the padawan, staring after her for just a bit before returning to her own quarters.

Sherlock had let John go off with Molly, under the instructions that should they find the need to return to a room, to go to Sherlock and John's. Sherlock had calculated it'd be several hours before either one of the padawans wished to return. They had friends to see, classes to get ready for, food to eat, things to do. Sherlock, on the other hand, had a promise to keep. So, he walked just down the hall to Natasha and Molly's room, and knocked on the door.

There was only a few seconds of delay before Natasha was pulling the door open and gesturing for Sherlock to step inside. "Come in," she said quietly, putting her own thoughts on pause as she closed the door behind him. "John's with Molly?"

"Of causing trouble as they usually do. He mentioned trying to find Sam, Martha, and Mary. They should be well occupied for a while. Probably need a break from us, if anything." Sherlock had his hands loosely at his sides as he did a quick sweep of the room. His eyes finally landing on her. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did." She looked him over and hesitated before she gestured for him to follow. "Let's sit down," she said, more than a little uncomfortable with the way she was hesitating, pausing and generally acting insecure. Insecure was decidedly not a word people would use to describe her, but Naomi's words were still rattling around inside her head and opening up possibilities she hadn't previously considered. "I'm not sure where I should begin," she said after she'd taken a seat. "I suppose I'll just start from the beginning." Pause. "Did you ever figure out why I walked away back in Appledoria?"

"You were compromised." Sherlock said, settling into his seat just across from her, back straight, both feet on the floor. "But that's using your words. In truth, I was confused about it until this last mission." He paused. "You kissed me there too, and not just to warm me up. Both times I nearly died, well, loosely put. Because you had thought I died in this last one… anyways… Kissing is a traditional sign of affection. I suppose that's the reason you walked away? Because you…got too close?"

Natasha exhaled a laugh. "Yeah, I suppose 'too close' is an appropriate way to put it." There was a short pause before she spoke again. "I love you," she said quietly, lifting her eyes to meet his and shaking her head once. "I loved you then and I still love you now, which is... inappropriate, I'm aware, but... you have a right to know."

Sherlock blinked twice, tilting his head slightly as he looked her over. "I…" he cleared his throat. "that's…closer than I thought." His brain was a mess of emotions, things he couldn't understand, but was trying very hard to. He ruffled a hand through his hair. "I'm glad…you told me." He looked away for a second, trying to get his thoughts in order to form a logical sentence. "You know…I didn't delete that first time. And it really hurt me, that you walked away." He paused, making sure to meet her eyes again. "Love is a mystery to me, but if it can be described as trust, and concern for happiness, and faith in, and willingness to go to any length to protect…I do believe I can say, with the utmost certainty, that your feelings are not unreciprocated."

Natasha couldn't be sure if his words meant he felt the same, but the description seemed close enough to what she felt that she didn't need clarification. She leaned forward in her chair, elbows resting on her knees and hands clasped in front of her. She smiled faintly. "So what do we do now?" She said after a moment. "Obviously... _this_ isn't something I've ever done before," she admitted. "Even the kissing was new." She paused. "Have you?"

"Nope." Sherlock said with a little shake of his head, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "This is…not my area. Nor was I ever expecting it to be." He paused. "As for what to do…I don't know. What are our options? We could try to…move on? Or…not move on. What would something like this…entail?"

"Well I spoke to Naomi," she admitted. "But I honestly wasn't expecting this... reaction out of you." She paused and stared at her clasped hands for a moment. "Moving on is an option, but so is going through with it." She met his eyes. "We'd have to be discreet, shield our... emotions so that others won't sense them while we're here... and set a few ground rules to make sure we don't lose our balance." Her eyes darted over his features for a moment. "It could work."

"Right." Sherlock said with a nod. He was quiet a moment in thought, gaze unfocusing as he tried to figure a few things out. "We're not just talking about…our trust and bond we've built over the years. This… love, it's a bit different. Isn't it?" He focused back on her. "It would mean what we have now would change slightly. In accordance with what we could get away with, and making sure to keep our balance."

"It is different," Natasha confirmed with a nod and a bit of a frown. "And things would change." She kept her eyes on him a moment longer before finally looking away. "But if that's not what you want, we can move on from this," she insisted, wanting to give him away out in case he needed it. "I won't bring it up again, and we'll just pick up where we left off three years ago." She paused. "Minus the feelings I just told you about. I can do that. For you, I can at least try."

Sherlock didn't answer right away, looking her over slowly in an attempt to read her. "I don't want to move on." He said simply, pausing again. "I probably could. Box every feeling up and store it away, continue on like we were. But I'd wonder, and I'm nearly certain something like this could not be boxed away for good. Going by your response to my resurrection, I'm not sure you could either." He paused. "If Naomi spoke to you, my suspicions are confirmed. If they can make that work…I think we can as well."

Natasha's green eyes found his and she held his gaze for a moment. "I don't want to move on either," she confessed quietly. "I could try if you wanted me to, like I said, but..." She briefly bit her lip and shook her head. "No, it's not the sort of thing I could box up forever and I have three years of proof behind me."

"Three years." Sherlock repeated. "You've known for three years." He paused, finally getting up the nerve to say it back. "While it's taken me a while to identify the feeling, and honestly only because you decided to tell me…I love you too."

"You... you do?" Natasha's initial reaction was a blink and a quiet intake of breath, but a second later she'd moved forward and out of her chair, hands curling into the fabric of his clothes the second she landed on his lap and pressed her lips to his. "You're saying that only because you mean it, aren't you?" She asked after she'd pulled away. "Because if you don't, you don't have to say it. I'm not fragile, I can handle it."

"Natasha Romanoff, I have never _ever_ thought you were fragile." Sherlock said, blinking his eyes open in surprise after she pulled away. "And I wouldn't say something that important without meaning it." He tried again, saying it in Russian instead. "_I love you."_

"I do like it when you speak Russian," she half-whispered, heart already pounding a little faster at those words. Her lips found his one more time, this time in a softer, gentler kiss, before she pulled back. _"I love you too."_

Sherlock smiled at her, running his hand over her thigh with minor hesitation. "Well…I think we're past the point of boxing it all up and forgetting about it." He used his other hand to cup her face, staring into fierce green eyes. "What do we do now?"

"I did say I had a few ideas," Natasha replied, leaning into his touch and matching his smile with one of her own. Naturally, she'd done her research after that first encounter at Appledoria, if for no other reason than to understand what had happened. "They involve less clothes, though... and we should probably move over to my bed."

Sherlock was suddenly hit with something he disliked. Nervousness. He took a second to push away that emotion, and concentrate on her. They loved each other in the deeper way than just good friends should love each other, and there were ways of showing that. He fixed her with a determined look. "I have no idea what I'm doing. But I'm willing to try."

"I... did a little research but it's no guarantee that I'll know what I'm doing either," Natasha admitted after a hesitant pause of her own. "We'll take it slow," she assured him, releasing his clothes and smoothing her hands over his chest and up to his neck. "As slow as we need to, okay? And if you want to stop at any time... we'll stop." Green eyes met blue and she smiled just a little, dropping her guard completely to show the uncharacteristic nervousness beneath. "I just want you."

"The kids are out…slow is good." Sherlock said, relaxing with her as she dropped her guard. He leaned in an placed a soft kiss on her lips, letting himself be as open as he could be. "You have me, all of me. So lead the way."

With another stolen kiss and a smile, Natasha slipped off his lap and grabbed his hand. Hers and Molly's quarters weren't all that large, and her bedroom connected with the receiving room anyway through a little hallway off to the side. She led him through and closed her bedroom door behind them before turning to face him completely. It was only then she remembered the height difference and a little laugh escaped her lips. She gestured towards the bed with a nervous gesture of her hand. "How about we sit down?"

"Right." Sherlock took a second to fully come to terms with what they were about to do, looking her over carefully. He made up his mind again, cementing it in there so there'd be no further doubts. He took a moment to pull off his boots and undo his belt before moving over to the bed, sitting on it and reaching for her hand.

Natasha's own boots and belts came off before she loosened her hair from her braid and finally grasped his hand. It was a big step what they were about to do, and she couldn't help thinking it every step of the way. A big step, with big consequences if they were found out. "Hey," she whispered after she'd straddled and settled herself on his lap. "Do you mind telling me one more time?"

"I love you." Sherlock said almost immediately, meeting her eyes with a renewed determination. His hands settled on her hips, softly and with more hesitation that he'd admit to. Not his area…but it could be. "And I'll tell you that as often as you need to hear it…and under the right circumstances, of course."

"I promise I don't need constant reassurance," Natasha replied with a new bright smile she'd reserve only for him. "This just feels... important." Pause. "I love you too." And she kissed him again as shaky hands slipped between them to help him out of his tunic.

It landed on the ground somewhere and he made contact again, his own hands moving under hers, the fire of the kiss spurring on his movements. They explored gently before he broke away to pull hers over her head. He sat back a bit as he threw hers towards where his had landed. "I'm nervous too, alright? And neither of us normally get nervous…so that's something." His hands moved gently over her, but his eyes were fixed on hers.

"It's something," Natasha agreed in a whisper, and staring into his bright blue eyes she allowed herself to relax. It was Sherlock and it was her, she reminded herself, they'd known and trusted each other for years. No matter how much the nature of their relationship changed, it was still him and it was still her. If there was ever someone they could be completely and totally vulnerable with, it was with one another.

She held his gaze for a moment longer in the dim light of her bedroom, but eventually lowered her eyes to follow every movement of her hands over the bare skin of his muscle-hardened chest. He truly was a beautiful man and she explored slowly but purposefully, committing the look and feel of him to memory before she leaned in to kiss him and do the same with the taste of his lips. This time she didn't need to hold back, and her hands settled behind his neck as she pressed herself closer and tilted her head to deepen the contact.

It wasn't enough, though. There were too many layers between them still and she wanted more, the way she always wanted more with him. So she pulled back to trail urgently heated kisses down his neck and chest while helping him out of his pants.

With a small moan, Sherlock lifted his hips to help the process, suddenly feeling very exposed. He willed that feeling away as well as a simple adjustment to the new vulnerability. After those were out of the way, he caught her head to bring her back up to kiss, slipping his hand over to figure out the bra clasp. He pulled away, looking up at her as he slipped the straps of her shoulder. Aesthetically, she was beautiful But that's never what drew him to her in the first place. Her determination, her intelligence, her abilities, those were the qualities he enjoyed the most. Those simply enhanced the beauty on the outside. "You are very beautiful." He said quietly as shaky hands touched warm skin. "Both physically, as well as who you are. It's something I've never really mentioned…but you should know."

Natasha fought the urge to cover herself up and instead flashed him a soft smile after her bra had disappeared to join the growing pile of clothes on her bedroom floor. He was right, he'd never really mentioned it before, but then neither had she. "So are you," she said against his lips after she'd leaned over to catch them in a passionate kiss. "All of you," she continued breathlessly. "Who you are, how you look..." She flipped them over so that she was lying on her back in a quick, cat-like move and smiled up at him. "And the way you think."

Sherlock hovered over her, propping himself up on his elbows as he studied her face with a contemplative expression. He tilted his head, moving to kiss her right under her ear and then down her neck to her chest, speaking against her skin as he moved. Still having no idea what he was doing, but it felt right. "You are amazing…loyal…brave…desirable…intelligent…fierce…and I…love…you."

Natasha's breathing became shallower every time he pressed his lips against her skin, and she slipped one hand through his hair while settling the on his shoulder and gripping it tightly. "Sherlock," she said after a moment when she managed to muddle through the overwhelming jumble of sensations she was still unfamiliar with to form a coherent though. Her voice came out low and barely above a whisper inside the quiet room. "You are... not just a good man, but a great man..." She pulled him up a bit so she could meet his eyes. "The best, the wisest and the most heroic... your protests aside... and I love you..." She pulled him down towards her. "And I need you to kiss me."

"That, I think I know how to do. Now." Sherlock said deeply, giving her a very tender smile. He closed the small distance and kissed her, with as much of that forbidden passion that he could possibly use. It was more than invigorating, it was past the intensity with how she'd saved his life. His hands moved over her, until he hooked a finger around the last remaining item of clothing and swiftly helped her out of it. The immediate future was spend learning, participating in an activity that he'd never considered even doing with anyone. Not until her, not until this feeling had been identified. Everything sort of hit at once, and he could more than understand why this emotion was not acceptable in the Jedi Order. It was distracting and he would likely do anything in the galaxy to keep her safe. But they were already over the edge, there was no going back now.

Eventually, after learning and moving together, they stilled completely. Sherlock's eyes were closed and he was panting hard, still unable to stop touching her. He ran a hand over her hair and down her back, his forehead pressed to hers and breathing the same air. He was burning, with the Force flowing between them, and a feeling he never thought he'd feel. And he didn't mind one bit. He'd memorized the entire process, from the look in her eyes, to her reactions, and the feeling of the Force exhilarating everything for them. Breathing in deeply, trying to reassert himself into the present, he kissed her again. "Was that okay?"

"More than okay," Natasha panted in reply, still basking in the aftermath of what had been a completely new but completely intoxicating experience. She hooked one leg over his hips, and reached up with one hand to cup his cheek. She still couldn't get enough of him, couldn't stop touching him, couldn't help thinking she'd be wanting more of him no matter what they did. The thought brought a smile to her lips and she leaned in for one more kiss. And another. And another. "_I love you, Charming."_

"I know." Sherlock said, smoothing a hand over the side of her head as he opened his eyes to look her over. He smiled slightly, losing himself in the moment…which was another complete surprise. "While we will have to talk ground rules soon…I think I have several new ideas for the shower."

Natasha let out a relaxed laugh and nodded once. "Then let's talk ground rules now," she quipped. "Because I think we should give those a try in the near future."

"Naked and sweaty seems appropriate for a deep discussion." Sherlock said with a smirk. "So, we have our padawans to think of. Are we going to tell them about our…connection?"

"Should we? With the amount of time we all spend together they're bound to notice something, if they haven't already." Natasha thought it over for a little bit before she spoke again, breathing slowing progressively as her body wound down from the unexpected high. "Molly won't say anything, I'm sure. She might even understand." She paused. "What about John?"

"John wouldn't either. They both are far too loyal for that. Because you're right…they will notice something eventually. Especially considering we still have six or so years left training them." Sherlock said, shifting so that he had her tucked into an embrace against his chest. "Perhaps it's best if we tell them ourselves instead of being asked about it."

"Agreed," Natasha replied, letting out a slow breath and closing her eyes. "Not here, though. We'll tell them during our next mission," she said a moment later. "I think might be coming our way pretty soon anyway." She paused. "What about priorities?"

"The Order, and the people we serve." Sherlock said after a moment's hesitation. "That's what Mycroft said he and Naomi do, and that's really the only way we can justify continuing this." He paused. "We also have to make sure that whatever happens…we're not going to fall over the edge." He'd have smiled at that phrase, if what he was speaking about wasn't so serious. "I have a bad habit of nearly dying, so if that does happen, I need you to promise to stay in the light, okay?"

Natasha half-opened her eyes, and after a moment, nodded once. "I promise," she said truthfully, "and you have to promise to do the same." She turned her head to press a kiss to his chest when memories of him going over the balcony back in Atoa rose to the surface. "The Order, the people we serve, and stay in the light," she repeated against his skin. "Anything else?"

"Try not to get caught." Sherlock said, tangling his hand in her hair and holding her head gently. "And I promise. We'll work on this together, right? That's what people do in these situations? How did he put it? Keep each other balanced."

"Naomi mentioned that too," Natasha said quietly, pressing one more kiss to his chest and closing her eyes. "We'll work on it together, same as we do everything else," she continued. "Though knowing us and our skill set, I doubt we'll get caught. And either way, the possibility of it isn't enough to scare me off."

"Nor me. Because that…was rather fun." Sherlock said with a smile she couldn't see. He made a bit of an unexpected revelation. "Although…that is how humans reproduce…and it's not like we can cover that up…" He made a bit of a face. "We'll have to…you know…can you?…" He trailed off awkwardly.

Natasha pulled back just enough to look at him and smiled. Awkwardness wasn't something she was accustomed to seeing in Sherlock except on very few occasions, and this time she found it oddly endearing. "Can I what? Take care of it?" She pulled him in for a quick kiss. "Yes I can."

"I just don't want…a conception to happen in the first place." Sherlock said, giving her a soft look. "I'll do one of those…surgery things on my next free day." He kissed her again. "Although I'm nearly certain our child would be unstoppable, it's not exactly feasible."

"No, I know, I agree," Natasha assured him quickly. "When I said 'take care of it' I meant the situation not a... child." She flashed him a soft smile of her own. "The surgery... you can do it or I can do it... it makes no difference to me, okay? Unstoppable as our... child would be, these aren't really ideal circumstances for... that sort of thing." Her brow furrowed and she searched his features. "Is that okay?"

"It's fine." Sherlock said with a reassuring smile. He moved a finger to gently trace her furrowed brow and then down her cheek. "Besides, we already have two kids. Who are more than enough of a handful at times." He teased lightly.

Natasha laughed quietly, but her eyes never left his face. "True," she agreed. "Two kids who'll be back from running around at some point and I still want to try that shower thing with you."

"And I'd really like to not have them find out like this." Sherlock said, slipping his other hand to run down her back. "Let's try the shower then. Never considered making it a two person activity. Should be fun."

"If it's anything like what we just did, I think I agree. Very fun" Natasha leaned in for a lingering kiss. "Let's go," she said when she'd reluctantly pulled away to sit up. "Because if I keep kissing you and you keep touching me, we might not leave the bed at all."

"You're right." Sherlock let her go, also reluctantly, dropping his hands to the bed. He gave her an appreciative once over, a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth as he sat up and ruffled his hair. "_Beautiful."_ He said, leaning over to sneak another slow kiss. He pulled away and stood up, pulling her with him. "Now, to the shower."

"Shower," Natasha confirmed in a low voice, and a moment after the door had closed behind them, the spray of water was beating down on their skin and she was once again in his arms, burning with the Force connection that hadn't left them since they'd gotten as close as two people possibly could on the bed just beyond the door. For three years she imagined what it would be like to tell Sherlock she loved him, to have him say it back and mean it, to be with him this way, even if the details escaped her in her inexperience; and for three years she tried burying those thoughts way down deep where she thought they wouldn't cause anyone any harm. Now, in the end, when she had him in her arms, wanting her the same way and feeling the same things, she knew, truly and without a doubt, that this wasn't just much better, it was really the only way.

So her lips found his again and again in fierce kisses, her hands burned trails over every inch of available skin, and with every intake of breath, a whispered 'I love you' came rushing out. It wasn't just about sealing the promises they'd made before, through their actions and through the Force, not just their words; it was about making new ones. To put the Order first, but to keep each other safe; to embrace the light, but turn to each other for balance; to continue their work, so they could keep each other. To stay partners in battle, lovers in private, and best friends in both.

Truly, the best of both worlds.


End file.
